Letters

everything is adapted and fits wonderfully to the state of affairs we behold. Let us therefore follow the counsel of such a great man, who was exercised in every kind of learning, and most especially in the knowledge of political science, and let us rise up for the destruction of our common enemy. Let us consider that a common danger is imminent; let us prepare for a common war, not sluggishly, not slowly, not sparingly, not as is usually the case when fighting for another’s cause, as has been done until now; but bravely, quickly, and bountifully, just as it is the custom to do in one’s own peril. Let every one of you, Christian princes, contribute as much to this cause as, whenever the situation has demanded it, you have not hesitated to pour forth for the salvation of your own empire, and as much as, with diligent consideration, each person’s strengths and resources allow. There is need here not just for one or two. We have a foe who is most strong, most powerful, most keen, and hanging over your very necks. There will be enough—and more than enough—involvement for all together. But neither will the foreign nations of Christendom be absent from us, so long as they see us not being absent from ourselves. They will be present, they will offer favor, they will bring supplies. Nor will our Savior Christ Jesus desert us, but He will hear us and answer us, provided He sees us doing those things that are worthy and decent. ^A For as Demosthenes says, not only God, but not even a friend should be asked to provide protection to one who is sleeping or idle. Indeed, if we do these things which we speak of, we shall be able, with heavenly protection, not only to guard what remains but even to recover what has been lost. Otherwise, we shall expose the affairs of Italy to great danger. And to conclude my speech with that same alternative which, in days past, I employed in the papal senate upon first hearing of the siege of Chalcis: that all Italy, with its affairs composed and pacified, and all enmity laid aside, and with the forces of all brought together under the leadership of God the Best and Greatest, might crush and break the power of the Turks; or, if we remain idle with empty words and vain promises, just as we have experienced these past eighteen years since the fall of Byzantium, then within a short time all of Italy... but I bridle my lip, nor will I express that which is dire and horrible even to hear. Wherefore, that we may avert these most grave dangers and obtain the wished-for victory, I beseech and adjure you all, Christian princes and peoples, that you apply yourselves to this goal with every zeal. ^B

LETTERS OF BESSARION, CARDINAL OF THE HOLY ROMAN CHURCH.

I. Bessarion, Bishop of Sabina, Cardinal of Nicaea, and Patriarch of Constantinople, to Pope Paul, on the Error of Easter.

There is no doubt, most blessed Father, that an error sometimes occurs in the celebration of the Paschal resurrection: sometimes of eight days, and sometimes of a month or more, as will occur this year, 1470; this, however, rarely happens. The error exists for two reasons; one from the lunations, the other from the equinox. For our holy Fathers wished our Easter to be celebrated: first, after the spring equinox; second, after the fourteenth day of the first moon following the spring equinox; third, not with the Jews; fourth, on the Sunday following the Jews’ Passover. In order that all these things might be observed properly and be open and known even to those not skilled in the science of astronomy, they published a certain table, or canon, in which in every year is found the first ^C lunar opposition after the equinox, at which time the Jews' Passover ought to be, and the day of the week on which such a lunar opposition falls, and then the Sunday on which our Easter ought to be celebrated, which comes to pass in practice through the calculation of 19 lunar years; for the ancient astronomers thought that the moon was turned through the space of 19 years to the same sign where it began. Moreover, this table relies upon that opinion concerning the equinox, to wit, that the vernal equinox would happen on the same day of the month of March at an interval of 300 years, neither of which is true. Yet it is not to be wondered at if such great men have lapsed in a matter of this kind; for even if the ancient astronomers held that science most excellently, nevertheless, they did not reach the entire truth of celestial motion, not deceived indeed by their own ignorance, but overcome by the nature of celestial things. For astronomy, since it does not fully attain the truth, but approaches it more closely, as philosophers affirm, the more observations it ^D

^A embraces, so through the comparison of these it reaches toward the truth; for which reason our successors have always approached closer to it, as they have possessed more observations. Indeed Ptolemy, most learned in the science of the stars, who first handed it down absolutely, thought the solar apogee to be immobile, which however later scholars perceive to be in motion, just as the non-erratic sphere moves—which is true. Moreover, Ptolemy says that the same sphere moves by one degree every hundred years from west to east; but later scholars say [it moves] in fewer years. The same [applies] regarding the matter at hand. Although the ancients thought that the moon, beginning in the first year, for example, from the first degree of Aries, after 19 years had elapsed, returned again to the same sign; this is not, however, true. For in the 76th year, it will fall short of reaching the same starting point by a full fourth part of a day, so that in 303 years it will be off by the space of one day. From this, naturally, an error has flowed into our Easter, sometimes by a full week. For we celebrate Easter one week late, which is an error that proceeds from the golden number, for it follows those lunations. In addition to this, we keep the year according to the Roman custom of 365 days and one quarter; such that the fourth year always comprises 346 days [sic]; whence the leap year is derived, and from this the solar year, and the real one is not as such, but greater by 500 or 200 parts of a day. Therefore, either in the 300th year or the 200th, as the younger [scholars] have more keenly understood, the equinox retrocedes by one day. From which it happens that in our Easter there is an error of one month and more, and we celebrate Easter a month later than we ought, just as happened this year, though that rarely occurs. Wherefore it is plain that the old and perpetual observation of the golden number and of those 19 years is the cause of this inveterate error; therefore, we must depart from them and from their way and rule. But if anyone wishes to advise properly on this matter, it is necessary that he recalculate these lunations and fashion a new table, by which both the learned and the unlearned might find Easter. But it will not be useful for long. For after 500 years it will again err by one day, and in the same way thereafter. Furthermore, it will be very difficult for this to be known to all Christians of every nation and sect; for at this time, all Christians of every nation, sect, and heresy agree on the day of Easter and celebrate it all on the same day, which is beautiful ^B and honest. But if it is changed, they will not accept it, and confusion will follow, so that while other Christians are fasting, others indulge in Paschal joys; and men, even if they are not all Catholics, nevertheless, called by Christ the Lord, would celebrate Easter on various days. Moreover, to command that Christians follow the lunations and observe Easter on the first Sunday after the first opposition of the moon occurring after the vernal equinox will be difficult, especially for those ignorant of celestial matters. Who, in small villages and towns where there is no abundance of learned men, could know when the new moon will be? When the opposition will occur? Or what is more difficult and more varied than when the equinox is? Everyone will err and disagree. Furthermore, this error brings no harm; since ^C when celebrating Easter, four things must be observed, as has been said: that it be done after the vernal equinox; after the first full moon after such an equinox; not with the Jews; on the Sunday after the Pasch of the Jews. All these are, or at least are more necessarily, preserved by this table; and although we err in celebrating Easter, sometimes by a few days late, yet this error makes us more diligently observe the third condition, which is very necessary—namely, that we do not celebrate with the Jews. For we depart from them by so much the more as we celebrate it later. Therefore, it seems that nothing should be changed, for the reasons which were commemorated above.

II. ^D To Pope Paul II, a Proemium to the book concerning the procession of the Holy Spirit (1). (Exists above, col. 319.)

III. To the Greeks. He exhorts them to obedience to the most holy Roman Church and to the acceptance of the Council of Florence. And regarding his election as Patriarch of Constantinople (2). (See above, col. 447.)

IV. To the chapter, canons, and chaplains of the church of the Twelve Apostles in Rome.—He sends them statutes and constitutions. (See above in the Appendix to the Life of Bessarion.)

V. To Guillaume Fichet, a doctor of the Sorbonne.—He sends orations directed by himself to the princes of Italy concerning the dangers impending over Italy and the decreeing of a war against the Turks. (Prefixed to the aforementioned orations, col. 641.)

VI. To the tutor of the children of Thomas the Despot. Noblest and dearest of friends, I received both earlier, and now through Hermetianus, your letters, to which I did not reply, because I had decided to wait until provision was made for the matters of the young princes. Since that has now been done, I write to you now. To console you and the princes concerning the most bitter death of the blessed

^A lord is not the business of the present time; therefore I shall excuse myself from this for now. Know, however, that the most holy Pope, through the intercession of certain friends and his own benevolence, has ordered three hundred gold coins to be given every month to the young princes, just as he used to give to the blessed lord. The most holy Pope desires and ordains that two hundred [coins] per month be for the three brothers equally and untouched, to be spent for their subsistence and that of their few personal servants—six or seven for each one—and for the purchase and fodder of at least four horses, and for the wages of those same servants, and for the clothing of the young princes, which must be fine clothing, and that something might remain over for each one, so that they might be assisted in case of any sickness or other necessity. He desires that this be done entirely, and that nothing be done otherwise. The remaining one hundred gold coins per month, that is, one thousand two hundred per year, are to be spent on certain nobles and fine persons who are to live with them, associate with them, serve them, and guard them. But the most holy Pope, having heard how many are there, was amazed and expresses disapproval ^B of us; for if, when the blessed lord—such a man—was alive, they were amazed how he had so many here, and blamed him for feeding so many here in exile with foreign money and foreign expectations, how much more now, when others have arrived in greater numbers than those who were here before, do they express disapproval and blame them, especially for such young and orphaned princes who possess neither rank, nor name, nor fame? And not only do they blame them, but they do not wish even one *tornes* more to be spent, and would that they had promised us to keep it strictly and that nothing be changed, as has been done at other times. For this reason it is necessary, most noble sir, that you and the nobleman Critopulus the physician now take care of the affairs of the princes; and we shall further select someone who may administer this and manage it energetically. Then, with your unique counsel, it will be deliberated what place should be assigned for their residence. And as far as can be immediately discerned, those who are most needed, and whom no one can do without, are first the physician, second the Greek tutor, third the Latin tutor, and lastly the interpreter. These, therefore, are absolutely necessary and cannot in any way be dispensed with. ^C Furthermore, there is need of one or two Latin priests to sing the Latin liturgy continuously. For it is fitting for the boys to live according to the Latin custom, which is what their own father also desired. And the nobles who are to be with them must ensure that the princes do not withdraw from the church because of the commemoration of the Pope, as was done on the journey. For if they should withdraw from the church, they must also withdraw from France. For no man tolerates the one who calls him impious and a heretic and openly flees from him. Wherefore, let those whom I have said are necessary consider it their duty to ensure that this is done. Moreover, I wish and I commend to those persons that they see how much remains of the one thousand two hundred florins. ^D

^A And then, your Nobility, together, you shall determine who is to remain and what each one is to have, according to our counsel. It seems to me, therefore, that the more there are—and the lighter their burden, so that each is content with a little, while being useful in other ways—the better it will be, for in this way the children will have more company, more attendance, and more honor. But we shall deliberate on this together and do what is best. Your Nobility is, for the present, like a guardian of the children, along with Critopulus. It is, therefore, necessary before all else that you take care of their education and their manners, so that they become refined and educated if you wish them to be held in any honor here. Otherwise, they will be held in contempt, both they and you here, and no one will even turn their head to look at you. We spoke with the lord, their father of blessed memory, about this matter; and he desired that they should clothe themselves and live entirely in the Frankish manner—that is, that they should attend the Church in all respects just as the Latins do and not otherwise, that they should dress in the Latin style, that they should learn to genuflect before those of higher rank—both the Pope and the Cardinals and other lords—that they should uncover their heads, and that they should honor those who greet them. When they go to see a Cardinal or another such lord, they must by no means sit, but must kneel and remain so until he tells them to rise. That man of blessed memory said that he had often instructed them not to sit. I commend all these things, then, to you, that you may admonish these princes and educate them well. Furthermore, let it be your care that their gait be grave and dignified, their conversation thoughtful, their voice measured and calm, their glance attentive, and that they do not gape ^B or wander hither and thither. Let them honor all, let them love all, and let them converse with everyone—both their own people and strangers—with respect. They must not be arrogant; let them be humble and calm. And let them not remember that they are descendants of an Emperor, but rather let them remember that they are exiles from their own land, orphans, strangers, and utterly poor; that they have need to live from the hands of others; and that if they do not possess virtue, if they are not prudent, if they are not humble, and if they do not honor everyone, no one will honor them, but all will turn away from them. Therefore, look well to all these things, your Nobility, along with Critopulus, since the burden lies upon you. In addition to this, let them take care to learn their letters and to make progress, and let them not think that because they are noble ^C they can do without them. Nobility that lacks virtue is nothing among any princes, even if they possess great kingdoms and wealth, much less in those who are deprived of all things. Wherefore it is necessary that they cultivate letters, and be obedient and submissive to you, and to the physician who attends to their health, and to their tutor, and let them be diligent listeners to your instructions. Moreover, let each commit to memory some brief address with which they may greet the Pope on bended knee and with head uncovered when they come here: let them take care not to do otherwise. If, while walking in public, they are greeted by men with heads uncovered, they too should uncover their heads, either completely or more or less according to the station of each person. Similarly, if men of honor from elsewhere come to see them, let them receive them worthily, uncover their heads, and treat each one according to his dignity. Let them speak but little, indeed, but— ^D

in an honorable, agreeable, and humble manner; let them not laugh at all, nor be distracted, but let them converse with a composed and serious demeanor. Regarding their food, let them be attentive and temperate. At their table, let them sit with care and decorum. If you wish them to be well-bred in the eyes of outsiders, arrange for them to be well-bred among their own people. Let them not be shameless in any way; accustom them from now on to good, humble, and gentle manners. Let them learn from now on to kneel becomingly and gracefully. And let them not feel ashamed that great kings and emperors do it. When they enter a Latin church, let them kneel and pray as the Latins do. Take them constantly to churches, to the liturgies, and let them stand with reverence and attention, without laughter, without chatter. Let them kneel and uncover their heads as the Latins do, and let them imitate them. If they do so, they will be helped, they will have honor before all, and I shall be able to support them. But if they do the opposite, I will not be able to help them at all, people will turn away from them, and no one at all will honor them.

^C These things I have written to you at such length, most noble sir, and the rest, not as trivial or empty things, but so that you may continually remind the princes of them, and through their tutor ensure they are read repeatedly, so that they might be more accurately understood and practiced by them. I wished to write these things to them directly; but because, as children, they would not be able to understand them properly, I have written them to you, most noble sir, so that you might commend them to them in both my name and your own, so that they might perform what I have written.

Pestilence has now invaded this city. Wherefore it seemed useful, by the counsel of the princes who are here, and by the will of the Pope, that because of the danger the princes should not come here. And not even to Ancona should it be recommended that they go, because that city also is infected with the plague, but that they should cross into the region they call Sicily, where the air is healthy, and stay there with the princes until September or October. Deliberate among yourselves meanwhile whether you wish to dwell there permanently, which is what will please the princes who are here. I and the most holy Pope will write to the Legate of the March so that he may help you and be of assistance to you in whatever is needed. There also is a bishop ^D of Como who is subject to me and a servant of the holy Lord. The diocese of this place is Sicily, where there are beautiful dwellings

and he will give them to you to live in, and he will assist you in whatever is possible. ^A At Rome, August 9, in the year 1465. Bessarion, Cardinal and Patriarch of Constantinople.

VII. To Theodore Gaza

^B You have truly finished a great labor, having interpreted Theophrastus’ *On Plants* and the *Problems* of Aristotle, and you have bestowed a great gift upon the Latins—some things which were in no way present among them, and others which were so perversely held among us ourselves that they could scarcely be understood. But you have corrected everything, restoring either the same meaning or the same expression, even if they had been altered, to Aristotle and to the work at hand as was fitting. And for this reason, an extraordinary reward of praise will be stored up for you in the souls of the learned, both those who live now and those who will live in future times. The work entails great toil, but a sublime honor will follow it; though not from the many, for there are not many who understand. Indeed, this, which happens in all other things as well, must be practiced nonetheless, even if there is no one who is skilled in it, no one who admires it. ^C Wherefore, if you also are content with the Pontiff alone—a learned man indeed—as judge and witness, even if there be but two or three who are able to understand and admire it as it deserves, continue the work and do not cease to confer benefits upon the Latins—men learned and worthy indeed—since you have no resources of your own from which to benefit them. But if you also value the testimony of the mob more highly (even though Socrates was content with the one alone with whom he had entered into dialogue, or perhaps not even that, for it is not fitting for you), but you desire to attend to other more useful things, by all means abstain from translations. But do not torture yourself, seeking from where you might procure food, neglecting translations. For our things are also yours; ^D and from where we have our food, from there it will be provided to you as well—not just any way, but as if you were shining with the same dignity as we are. And if it should be in your mind to change your seat, direct your step to no one else but us. An example, perhaps, would not be a bad one for you, even our own: for we, at one time being in need of every means for life, took a field of another and farmed it; and by thus procuring the necessities, we became a burden or weight to no one by asking. To you, however, there is no necessity to farm; for while the war at that time shut off the road for me into the cities, you are in Florence, a city most resourceful for everyone, in whatever they may choose to practice.

TO MICHAEL APOSTOLIUS — BESSARION, CARDINAL OF THE HOLY ROMAN CHURCH VIII. He reproves him because in the apology written for Gemistus Pletho against Theodorus Gaza and Aristotle, he had inveighed too hotly. Cardinal Bessarion greets Michael Apostolius and wishes him better judgment.

^A Those things which you wrote against Theodorus Gaza in defense of Pletho have reached us later than you yourself had thought, but they are more polished. For Andronicus Callistus, having first examined and discussed them himself, finally sent them to us together with his own. We certainly admired your spirit and your goodwill towards Plato and his followers; however, we did not praise the manner in which you defended that cause. For one ought to champion a friend and repel an enemy not by reviling the adversary, but by proofs and the power of arguments. Wherefore, if Pletho provoked Aristotle, or if Theodorus provoked Pletho, or if you yourself spoke ill of Theodorus, all these things seem to me to have been said beyond what was proper and just. For it is not right to speak ill of Aristotle, who was the author of so many good things for us, nor of Pletho, a wise man and truly of great natural talent; unless perhaps someone says that because he was the first to speak ill, he provides some excuse even for those who speak ill in return. ^B Theodorus, too, a leading man among the Greeks of today, is the least deserving of being spoken ill of by you—a man who is already senior, while you are still young—and by one who has not yet rightly attained to logical arguments and disciplines, whereas he is a man who has traveled through all of wisdom and learning. This is especially true when the inquiry concerns theorems of such a kind which, as they are the greatest in all of philosophy, must necessarily exceed the grasp of the common people; nor can he who has not put much work into philosophy and who is not highly educated say anything about these matters, or at least understand anything perfectly.

I was indeed annoyed that Theodorus was accused by you of ignorance. But that even Aristotle himself, who we hold as our guide and prince of all learning, should have suffered the same—and be called by you unlearned, and of bad mind, and delirious, and ungrateful (alas, what an outrage!)—this, indeed, seemed to me to exceed all audacity and rashness. I can scarcely hear, or rather, I cannot endure to hear that from those of Pletho, such a man, such things said against Aristotle. ^C

…[while] for you, being poor, it is necessary to be pressed by a lack of such things; a thing which happens to me too, while I am unwell, for our masters, while providing us with necessities, provide only what is necessary for one who is healthy; but for sickness and similar accidents, they take no care, as if we were sprung from an oak or a rock, and not from human beings. O hands of princes, more arid than pumice itself! O wealth, more magnificent, yet more avaricious than poverty itself! ^D

^A And he who casts them away; much less you, who have not yet attained any precision in such matters.

If, therefore, you listen to me, and deeming Plato and Aristotle most wise, follow in their footsteps, make each of them your leader; and using leisure and study, and teachers as is fitting, first of all labor to attain the deep meaning of the things spoken by both of them. For those two men do not say things that are easy for everyone who wishes to understand them. Furthermore, if they differ in any respect, do not make it a sign of ignorance—away with the thought!—but rather [a sign] of their great power and skill regarding discourse, and of the nature of their questions, which, because of their uncertain and obscure subject matter, can be drawn to either side; instead, admire their wisdom, and give thanks to both for the good things of which they have been the cause for us. For by acting thus, you will better consult your own interests, and you will gratify me, and all those who are of sound mind. For as it is, thinking that you would gratify [me], you have caused great distress; first, because you have scolded such men, who did not deserve to be insulted, in such an uncovered way; and second, because you have shown yourself to be not at all well-versed in their writings. ^B Honor Theodorus also, as he earns it, and use him as a teacher in all things. For he is of such a character that he is able to benefit both you and many others. As for me, so that you may not again be mistaken and think that by saying such things about such men you are gratifying me, know that I am a lover of Plato, and a lover of Aristotle, and that I revere both of them as being most wise. I also admire Plethon for his magnanimity and natural talent, but I cannot praise his such great hostility and ill-will toward Aristotle. For I would wish that he, and others—whether [dealing with] these two greatest philosophers, or with Plethon himself, or with whomever else—should encounter [them] with such caution as Aristotle [used when he] argued against those who were before him. For he always [relies on] ^C the force of reason, and usually asking for indulgence, whether from his hearers or from those whom he is refuting, he demonstrates the matter at hand in such a way that he abstains from insults; and even when he is inveighing with more vehemence, even then he observes moderation. "But as for the Forms," he says, "farewell." For they are trifles, and if they exist, they serve no purpose for the argument. And again, when speaking about certain other men, he says, "Those men did not touch upon dialectic." This is the sum of his insults.

But we, little men, or rather monkeys in comparison to those heroes, shall we dare to call them ignorant—alas!—and cast insults from the wagon, more licentiously than in comedy itself against Cleon and Hyperbolus? ^D Being who? Having what knowledge, having what science of things? This is truly folly and manifest madness. For do not imagine, O good man, that if you attribute to Plethon, a wise and noble man, whether [it be] to Plotinus,

^A to Atticus, or to Porphyry, or to any other of those of similar spirit who breathe Plato and Aristotle, that it was permitted for them to correct Aristotle and Plato, and at times even to blaspheme [them], that it is also allowed for us to do the same. For to those men, whether they flourished in their own age or not long after, and because there were active and no less contentious disputes back then, and because envy had not yet been extinguished, and because those men were perfected in all learning, there is much that carries weight in their own apology. But for us, who are so far inferior to them, since they have long since attained such great authority through the common approval and vote of all people, no pardon remains.

You therefore, having insulted Aristotle completely without cause, and having by no means defended Plethon (for he truly has no need of such words for the defense of his cause), and having injuriously assailed with abusive words the wise man Theodore, ^B having done for us not only nothing to our pleasure but also a quite bitter thing, sing a palinode, serving yourself of me as an advisor, a man who loves you, and who desires and prays for better things for you; and wash away those unjust insults with praises and with words of eulogy. And as you examine with thought and a settled mind the objections of Andronicus to your writings, respect the truth of the words themselves, and, following his example—after you have devoted enough study to grammar, to orthography, to the choice of proper words, to rhetoric, and to knowing how to compose rightly and with beauty—only then advance to greater things, and to philosophy itself. Fare well, and considering the things which have been said as an admonition from one who loves you, follow this advice. ^C Written at the warm baths of Viterbo, on the nineteenth day of May, in the year of Christ 1462.

To Andronicus Callistus. He announces that he is sending copies of the opinion [expressed] by him, signifying the above letter in which he reproves Michael Apostolis.

Bessarion the Cardinal to Andronicus Callistus the philosopher.

I have perused in passing both the Miscellanea of Michael against our companion Theodore, and your corrections regarding the same person. Regarding both [matters], what we judge and feel ^D while dwelling elsewhere, it was possible for me to see and examine a work of yours, in which, acting as an advocate for Theodore Gaza, you appear to be contending against Michael, I know not why, having brought forth a speech against Theodore that is full of abuse and slander, while you choose for yourself the struggle to defend Plethon and, through him, Plato besides. This speech, which a certain friend had brought to me not long ago, I have had in my hands and read, [though] not altogether with pleasure. For it is—if one must express one's opinions freely—something that promises great [results] but achieves, as I suppose, not even small ones. I was therefore grieved that Theodore was being reviled and hearing things unjustly.

^A For it is neither surplus nor, at the same time, easy for one undergoing medical treatment, to be wordy with you.

I was pleased, however, to have encountered your efforts on his behalf step by step, and I was pleased exceedingly, for many reasons. For I love Theodore deeply and hold the man in the highest regard; and I admire not only his words and his zeal and precision in every branch of knowledge, but much more his character, his virtue, the modesty and decorum in his life, and his natural aptitude and keen grasp of all good things together—so that if someone were, for the sake of his education and the excellence of his character, to call him the first among the Hellenes of our day, one would not be missing the truth.

Furthermore, as I went through it, and turned my mind to what was said, it caused me no small pleasure that I was seeing the salinity of falsehood being washed away by true and potable words, and, as if some stains having rubbed off on the truth—not in a good way nor in due measure—were being wiped away throughout by the nitre and efficacy of the words, and thence the truth sparkling and becoming more radiant with its own beauty, while the ignorant and vulgar and uneducated [parts], being driven off to the crows—that is to say, being altogether spurious and counterfeit—were being cast away into Cynosarges. ^B

It occurred to me, in addition to these things, to rejoice that your friend was the father of such words and proved to be the weaver of such tapestries, whom I, having known previously and having conjectured the nature of his ability from the little familiarity I had with him, thought that while you had advanced sufficiently and had not just superficially grasped learning, still, you had not arrived at such power and beauty, nor had you brought every branch of knowledge to such precision that you were able to produce such things. For it has been said—so bear with me, as I speak with unfeigned frankness and not in anger. But you—having clearly used a good and noble nature, and having brought to bear a prudent and quick-witted diligence—have so far surpassed the expectations of your friends, great though they were, and in such a short time, that even those who were deceived [by their earlier estimation] wonder and at the same time love you all the more for wondering. May you, therefore, enjoy the success of your versatile wisdom, and the strength and flow of your language; and may your noble mouth be filled with honey, since you sing more sweetly than the cicadas. ^C

I would pray that such power might exist in me, so that, rightly understanding all things of which your discourse is full, and having examined each thing in the proper manner, I might be able to cast my vote and assign to each piece its due praise; but whether this is greater than I, or because all things in which your discourse is harmonized and constructed for you are too great for the whole of me to observe and understand, or because my judgment concerning these matters is weak and not capable of reaching [that standard]—or perhaps both these things have happened together—it is perhaps more just to hold my peace.

Yet I do not think one should keep silent because of this, nor should one neglect the possible, even if it is not easy to accomplish the whole. One must, therefore, say what seems right and attempt it to the best of one's ability, without slackening or yielding at all, even if there is no hope appearing that one might ever arrive at the goal and correctly attain the pinnacle.

Who, then, would not admire—if I may begin from the easier points—the Hellenic [quality] of the terms, ^D the expression and the lordly tone, the grace in the writing, the refinement and purity of the diction, and the rhythm of the composition? And what might one say of the form of the arguments, which has been gathered from all sources by rules and methods and is distinguished, accomplishing everything in all things with incomparable beauty and harmony, revealing nothing gaping or disjoined, but, as if from parts and members that are exceedingly well-proportioned and concordant among themselves, building up and fulfilling one whole body, supported by its own buttresses in a fitting manner, and advancing in such order and arrangement, and delighting in such an exchange of figures and word-play, that the interpretation does not lack proportion with the magnitude of the concepts, nor does the beauty and charm of the diction fall short in any way; Hermes everywhere seems to stand before the work, weaving the words together with Aphrodite and the Graces; and the Muses all seem to be present at the work, each contributing her part and adorning it, and all together blooming and beautifying the words with roses and violets and lilies, and decorating them as if from a meadow with all kinds of flowers?

And surely, who would not welcome the multitude of terms, which is directly like winter snowflakes? For it is not shown to cause obscurity by its density nor to cast one into perplexity. And the clear and pure [nature of it] would not be found to be so prone, nor lax and loose, as to become easy for the hearers to grasp and understand the underlying meaning, and in this way to appear easily accessible, needing neither toil nor any care to be mastered. On the contrary, the discourse, inclined toward the smooth and lucid interpretation, leans toward the simple and accessible, and as though pulled down, it does not weary the reader in the slightest; but, by the magnitude of the concepts and the manner of the expression, being rendered awesome, it rises somewhat and, so to speak, lifts the eyebrows, driving the reader to understanding. Yet by the methods, and by the blossoming and varied and ever-youthful character of the diction, and by the followable and undisturbed nature of the exposition, it consoles the steep and, as it were, jagged nature of the subjects and supports the weary, and from there, rising up gently, it cheers those who are conversing with it. And in all these things there becomes a certain best mixing and incomparable tempering of words, entering the soul itself gently and softly, and trickling silently like oil, in one place deepening and, as it were, undulating with magnitude and wax, in another place spreading easily with a joyful and serene [nature], and smiling upon those who encounter it.

Where would one place the inevitability of your words and the inescapability of the net, which grants no escape or passage to those once caught within its meshes, firmly strengthening its own [arguments] and fastening the whole together with adamantine nails, while overturning and pulling up by the roots the [arguments] of others—those spoken improperly or out of season? Yet the fragile part of [opposing] speeches, moving about in vain on the sea like an unballasted and rudderless ship, you yourself detect very readily and now aim at it accurately, now use a clear and undistorted method of argument, and with proofs and methods not vulgarly, but opportunely and elegantly, strengthening your arguments wherever necessary, [is] not at all difficult [to admire].

Given at the same time and place as those to Michael.

X. To the sons of Plethon.

He accompanies their deceased father with a most elegant eulogy.

Cardinal Bessarion to the sons of the wise Gemistus, Demetrius and Andronicus. ^A I have learned that our common father and guide, having laid aside all that is earthly, has migrated to heaven and to those most lucid regions, to dance a secret dance together with the Olympian gods. I, for my part, rejoice at having had the company of such a man, than whom, after Plato (let Aristotle be excepted from the discussion), Greece has brought forth no one wiser. ^B So that if anyone were to approve of the doctrines of the Pythagoreans and of Plato regarding the infinite ascent and descent of souls, I for one would not hesitate to add this also: that the soul of Plato, when it was necessary to complete the required period, choosing, as it came down to earth, the body of Gemistus and his manner of life, took it for itself. As for you, if you do not rejoice and applaud having been begotten by such a father, you act unbecomingly. For it is a sacrilege to accompany with tears such a man, who was a great honor for all of Greece, and greater adornment will he be for the future. His glory shall never be obscured, but his name and fame, with everlasting praises, shall be transmitted to all time to come. Fare well, and greet Prince Chilan ^C on my behalf.

You, however, my noble Andronicus, would I be hesitant to add this: that the soul of Plato, having to serve the unbreakable laws of fate and to pay back the necessary period, chose to descend to earth and to make the body and life of Gemistus its own. And you, if you yourselves were not rejoicing and applauding, issued from him, you would not be acting as is fitting. For it is not even permissible to mourn such a man. He has become a great glory to all of Greece, and a great adornment he shall be for her in the time to come. His glory shall never perish, but his name and fame shall be transmitted with eternal honor to all eternity.

And [do you] instruct others who do not think correctly about what truly exists; and may you always prevail over those who are otherwise wretched and uneducated, by transmuting their unseemliness into every form of virtue, which, as you do well, you are called most excellent for. Know that I am your friend, having the zeal to speak and to do everything in my power for your sake. Farewell.

In Viterbo, the fifth day of June, in the year 1462 from Christ.

Cardinal Bessarion: I, then, rejoice in having attended such a man, to whom, after those first men whom Greece brought forth, I know of no one similar in wisdom or in any other virtue.

Greet Prince Cheilan on my behalf; let him know that he is held in the highest regard by me on account of his virtue.

Epitaphic verses on Plethon by the same

Plethon’s body the earth possesses, his soul the stars, A most sacred temple of all-encompassing wisdom. Many godlike men, indeed, Greece brought forth, Surpassing in wisdom and in other virtue. But Gemistus, as much as Phaethon surpasses the stars, So much does he excel all others in both these respects.

XI. To Nicolaus Secundinus

He sends a copy of the previous epistle along with funeral verses.

^A Cardinal Bessarion greets the most learned Nicolaus Secundinus.

Since I know well that you held the wisdom and singular virtue of Gemistus in high esteem, I send you some funeral verses composed in his praise, and the epistle which I had sent to his sons—an epistle written not so much to console them (for they ought to be joyful, not sorrowful) as to praise him. When you have read it, do not believe that it contains any exaggeration. For that man was a living exemplar of philosophy and of every kind of learning—not merely that which concerns the movement of the stars, the precepts of eloquence, geometry, arithmetic, or the philosophy of Plato and the theological questions of other men (all of which he knew very well), but that which penetrates the morals and the life-conduct of every individual. In this, he so excelled that neither Diogenes nor any of the Stoics is to be compared to him; while imitating their gravity and continence, he far rejected their boasting and ostentation. For which reason, to speak my mind, I have admired no one ^C among all those with whom I have had dealings as much as him. I, who have lived with many learned men, have never seen anyone who either held the present state of things in less esteem or was more removed from the vain talk of the Sophists, or who searched more diligently for what is true in philosophy. Therefore, I have celebrated his great praises in few words, since long discourses would not suffice for the task. Wherefore, it will be enough to honor such men, who surpass us in all things, with silent admiration more than with panegyrics. Farewell. ^D

XII. To King Louis XI, written by the Supreme Pontiff, that he has been chosen as legate to settle peace between the King himself and the Dukes of Burgundy and Brittany, with arms laid aside.

Bessarion, Cardinal, to the most serene prince and most illustrious lord, the Lord Louis, most Christian King of the Franks, my most worshipful lord.

Most serene prince and most illustrious lord, my most worshipful lord, I have never swerved from the journey I planned once I departed from the City, in order to reach Your Majesty. For my duty in undertaking this legation, and the most pious commands of the Supreme Pontiff, left me scarce room to care for my health or to refresh my advancing age, especially since French affairs were bringing forth unrest and slaughter on every side, and armed forces were, which I cannot write of without the greatest pain of soul, being prepared day by day for bloody conflict. With this single thought and care, I took no account of my own health nor of my feebleness, whether I was crossing Mount Cenis and the most difficult Alps, or finishing the remaining very rough journey. For no kind of vehicle, no acceleration, could be as great as that which the Apostolic See and my own devotion to the Christian name demanded, given the condition and fortune of these events. For when the Supreme Pontiff understood that this nation, so great in its deeds and almost infinite in its multitude—by whose resources and virtue the Church of God is both adorned in prosperous times and defended in most difficult times—was being shaken by mutual seditions and wars, he groaned vehemently, and as is the duty of a good shepherd, he decided to choose one who might compose the dissident Lord’s flock with mutual peace and quiet, lest the fiercest wolf, to whom the Christian name has for long been a mockery, should make an attack. Indeed, many could have been sent who were more outstanding in talent and wisdom, but few who surpassed me in will and in zeal for accomplishing the task. For, even if I cede other things to others, it would be shameful to be surpassed in love of religion, both in my past life and at my present age. But since I have been extremely anxious and solicitous throughout the entire journey to arrive before hands were engaged in battle, I am now most deeply anguished and tortured that, though I have worn myself out with such speed and am almost present [on the scene], the fury of war ^D is in no part abated; would that it were permitted me to be present for a moment with Your Majesty and the most illustrious Dukes of Burgundy and Brittany, even if it were to divide this little body into three parts, so that with arms repressed, the common dignity, greatness, and salvation might be treated [as a matter of priority]. Since this cannot happen, it is most distressing. I am to visit all of you by the Pontiff’s mandate; and according to the established order of the legation, I come first to you, most Christian prince, since the condition of your highness so demands; I shall confer next with the most illustrious Duke of Brittany along with and near whom battles hang as if with drawn swords. I beg Your Majesty, by the immortal praise of your ancestors, by the name of "Most Christian," which is domestic and hereditary, by the excellent glory of piety and mercy, by the majesty of Christ, by which you have long held the reins of so great a kingdom, that you abstain from battle by extending the truce, which, as I hear, is to expire on the following Monday. I shall be there shortly, with God as my guide, and I shall endeavor with the most religious counsel of Your Majesty and with the best will to meditate upon and perform those things which seem destined to bring a safeguard to you and all other princes, and [to result in] common liberty and eternal praise of piety. I have now sent the reverend Father, Lord Bartholomew, Bishop of Parenzo, a man endowed with no common talent and faith, who will ask these things in my name and will explain other matters face to face. I pray that you hear the man and place as much faith in him as [you would] in me myself if I were present, for he sets out from me and speaks for me. May Your Majesty be fortunate, to whom I commend myself.

Written from Saumur, the fifteenth day of August, one thousand four hundred and seventy-two.

Your Majesty's most devoted, B. Cardinal of Nicaea, Legate of the Apostolic See.

XIII. To the Prince and Senate of Venice, presenting and donating his library, most instructed in every kind of book, to the same senate.

To the most illustrious and most invincible prince of the Venetians, Duke Christophoro Moro, and to the renowned senate, greetings.

For my part, from my tender and boyish age, I have always applied all my labor and all my effort, study, and care to gather whatever books I could in every branch of knowledge; on account of which, not only did I transcribe many with my own hand while still a boy and adolescent, but whatever money my sparse frugality could at times set aside, I spent on purchasing them. For I thought that I could procure for myself no more worthy and excellent collection, no more useful and outstanding treasure. Full of voices, full of the examples of antiquity, full of customs, full of laws, full of religion, they live, converse, and talk with us. They teach us, instruct us, console us, and exhibit things most remote from our memory as if they were present, and place them before our eyes. Such is their power, such their dignity, such their majesty, and finally, such their divinity, that were it not for books, we would all be uncouth and unlearned; we would have almost no memory of past events, no example, and finally, no knowledge of either human or divine things.

^A Although I have always applied myself to this objective with my whole heart, I nevertheless spent all my strength, effort, means, and energy on searching for Greek books with even greater zeal after the downfall of Greece and the ruinous captivity of Byzantium. For I deeply feared and dreaded lest, along with other things, so many excellent men, so many labors and vigils of the greatest men, and so many lights of the world should be endangered and perish, just as we have suffered such a great loss in the past, so that out of two hundred and twenty thousand books, which Plutarch reports were in the library of the Apameans, hardly a thousand remain in our age. We have endeavored, as much as in us lay, to collect not so much a large number of books as the best, and we have gathered individual volumes of individual works, and thus almost all the works of the wise Greeks, especially those that were rare and difficult to find. But as I often pondered this in my mind, it seemed that I had scarcely satisfied my own desire, unless I also saw to it that the books which I had collected with such study and labor should be so placed during my lifetime that, even after I have passed away, they might not be scattered or alienated, but might be preserved in some safe and convenient place for the common benefit of men, both Greeks and Latins. Therefore, while pondering this and turning over in my mind the many cities of Italy, your own renowned and most spacious city occurred to me, in which my mind could find rest in every respect. For first, I saw no place that I could choose more secure than one that is governed by equity, held together by laws, and ruled in unity and wisdom, where the virtue of temperance, gravity, justice, and faith has its home; where the government, as it is most great and spacious, is also equitable and moderate; where minds are free in deliberation, subject to no lust, no vice; where prudent men hold the helm of state, and the good are placed before the bad, and, forgetful of private interests, they provide for the whole body of the commonwealth by unanimous consent and with the greatest integrity. From which I hoped ^B that your city, which we desire, would grow daily in strength and reputation. Furthermore, I understood that no place could be chosen by me that is more convenient and better suited, especially for our own people. For since almost all the nations of the whole world flow together into your city, especially the Greeks, who, coming from their provinces by ship, first land at Venice: they are for that reason bound to you by such a relationship that, upon arriving at your city, they seem to enter a second Byzantium. After this, how could this favor of mine be more honorably bestowed than upon those men by whose many benefits toward me I had been bound and obligated; and in that city which, after Greece was subjugated, I had chosen as my fatherland, and into which I had been summoned by you and most honorably received? Accordingly, conscious of my own mortality and considering my now advancing age and the various diseases with which we are afflicted, and the other things that could come to pass, I have given and dedicated all my books in both languages to the most sacred church of Blessed Mark of your renowned city, feeling that I owed such a spirit both to your excellence and to my own gratitude, and to the country you wished to be common to me, so that you and your children and descendants, who hold me bound, devoted, and obligated by your virtue and wisdom and by your many favors to me, might take them as heirs of my labors, and reap their rich and lasting fruits; and then that others who are devoted to the liberal arts might receive them for your sake. Wherefore I am sending to your excellencies both the donation itself, and the index of the books, and the decree of the Supreme Pontiff, praying to God that all things may turn out well, happily, and prosperously for your republic, and that it may have peace, tranquility, rest, and perpetual concord. May your excellencies fare well and happily.

Viterbo, May 8th. BESSARION, Cardinal, Patriarch of Constantinople, dedicated this to the basilica of B. Mark in Venice.

The catalog of the library of Bessarion was long ago presented by the most excellent B. Montfaucon in his *Bibliotheca bibliothecarum* of manuscript codices. But since I have this catalog, which is clearer and more exact, unearthed from the Riccardian library, and, as it seems, nearly contemporary with Bessarion himself, I think I shall not have done an ungrateful thing for the learned if I bring it into the public domain here once again. It is truly as follows.

List of books, both Greek and Latin, which the most reverend Father in Christ, the Lord Cardinal of Nicaea and Bishop of Albano, gave as a gift to the most serene and excellent ducal dominion of Venice: which were stored (as they had been transmitted from Rome) in 30 chests and entrusted to the magnificent and generous lords, the procurators of the church of Divine Mark, for as long as any house might be fitted out and adorned as a library, in which they ought to be deposited for the common benefit of students, and for the beauty and ornament of this most celebrated city.

In the chest marked A are these codices, whose inscriptions are seen noted below. The whole of Aristotle except logic, on parchment and new. Physics of the same with an exposition up to the fourth book by a certain other man. Next, Simplicius, on parchment, and it is a beautiful book. Physics of the same, with an exposition by Simplicius, on parchment. Simplicius on the Categories of Aristotle: and a...

^A short exposition by another on the first and second books of the *On the Soul*, on parchment, beautiful. Theophrastus *On Plants*, on parchment. Philoponus on the book *On Generation and Corruption*, and Alexander on the *Meteorology*, on parchment. The Logic of Aristotle, with expositions, up to the *Topics*, on papyrus. Aristotle’s *Physiognomics*, *Paradoxes*, *Mechanics*, and *Problems*, on papyrus. Aristotle’s *Rhetoric*, and some parallels of Plutarch, on papyrus. Alexander’s *Natural Questions*, *Moral Questions*, and *On the Soul*, on parchment. Certain epigrams and moral works of Aristotle, the *Magna Moralia* and the *Eudemian Ethics*, partly on papyrus, partly on parchment. Sextus Empiricus *Against the Mathematicians*, on papyrus. An interpretation of many works on logic, on papyrus. A metaphrase on logic, on papyrus. Questions of a certain John Italus on logic and the *Topics*, on parchment. Ammonius on the Categories of Aristotle. Simplicius on the book *On the Heavens and the Earth*, imperfect and disordered; and the *Erotemata* of Ptochoprodromus, on papyrus, etc. Chortasmenos on logic and rhetoric, on papyrus.

*In the chest marked B, which is of the weight of 230 pounds, are the following volumes:*

The Gospel of Matthew with commentaries, on parchment. Olympiodorus on certain dialogues of Plato, on parchment. Arrian on Epictetus, on papyrus. Some orations of Plotinus, on parchment. Orations of Maximus the Platonist, on parchment. Iamblichus on the letter of Porphyry, on parchment. Porphyry’s dialogue on the Categories of Aristotle, and on dialectic, arithmetic, and theology, on parchment. Simplicius on the three books *On the Soul*, and Proclus, and Hermes, on certain Dialogues of Plato, on parchment. Herodian on the eight Caesars, and Zosimus the historian, on parchment. Heliodorus’s *Aethiopica*, on parchment. ^C Phocylides, Theognis, Pollux, and other things, on papyrus. The History of Pachymeres, on papyrus. Xenophon’s *Anabasis*, on papyrus. Some orations of Philo, on parchment.

*In the chest marked C, of the weight of 220 pounds, are the following books:*

Homer’s *Iliad*, *Odyssey*, *Hymns*, *Battle of Frogs and Mice*; Quintus’s supplement to the *Iliad*, on parchment. ^D Homer’s *Iliad*, on parchment, a most beautiful book. Homer’s *Odyssey*, on papyrus. Eustathius on the *Odyssey*, on parchment. Eustathius on the first nine books of the *Iliad*, on parchment. Poems of Gregory of Nazianzus, on parchment. Aratus the poet, Lycophron, on parchment, with expositors. Ancient *Erotemata*, on parchment. Euripides, on papyrus, three tragedies. Aristophanes, three comedies, and Sophocles, four tragedies, on papyrus. And Nicander’s *Theriaca*, on parchment.

*In the chest marked D, of the weight of 225 pounds, are the following volumes:*

All the works of Plato in the same and most beautiful volume, on parchment. All the *Moralia* of Plutarch in the same volume, on parchment. Proclus on Plato’s *Parmenides*, on parchment, a new and beautiful book. Proclus on the theology of Plato, and Hierocles on the Golden Verses of Pythagoras, a new and beautiful book. Proclus on Plato’s *Timaeus*, on parchment, a new and beautiful book. Some dialogues of Plato, and *On the Republic*, on parchment. Some dialogues of Plato (xxxviii), on papyrus, and his Life at the beginning. Iamblichus, *On the Life of Pythagoras*, on parchment. All the works of Plotinus, on papyrus. Damascenus on the principles in the *Parmenides*, on parchment. Proclus’s two books on the theology of Plato, and his elemental theology. History of the deeds of the Emperor Maurice in eight books, and the exposition of Asclepius Tradanus on arithmetic, on parchment. Nicephorus Gregoras, on parchment. Xenophon’s *Hellenica* (continuing Thucydides), and on the sayings and deeds of Socrates, and certain other orations, on papyrus. Josephus *On the Captivity*, on parchment. Josephus *On the Captivity*, on parchment, and the histories of Zonaras and Choniates, on papyrus.

*In the chest marked E of the weight of 230 pounds, are the following codices:*

Diodorus the historian from the tenth to the twentieth book, on papyrus. Diodorus from the eleventh to the fifteenth [book], on parchment. Appian’s *Roman History* and other things, on papyrus. Theogenes and Chariclea, on parchment. The first five books of Diodorus, on papyrus. Dio’s *Roman History*, on papyrus. Herodotus, on papyrus, and certain orations of Julian.

^A The chronicle of a certain person, on papyrus. All the orations of Demosthenes, on parchment. Strabo, from the 11th book to the end, with the annotations of Gemistus, on papyrus. All the *Parallel Lives* of Plutarch, a most beautiful book. Twenty-one orations of Isocrates, and Dionysius’s *On the Composition of Words*. The Sophist Syrianus and others on various parts of Rhetoric, on parchment. The declamations of Libanius, on papyrus. Twenty-nine orations of Lysias; Dionysius’s *On the Character of Lysias*; Gorgias’s *In Praise of Helen*. Two orations of Adamantius; two orations of Antisthenes; one oration of Demades. The histories of Agathias in five books, and *On the Names and Orders of the Ancients*. The poet Theognis; Phocylides; the *Golden Verses* of Pythagoras; Moschus of Sicily. Musaeus’s *Hero and Leander*; Dionysius Longinus’s *On the Sublime*, on parchment, etc. The eight books of the *Banquet* of Naucratis, on parchment. The history of Thucydides, on papyrus.

In the chest marked F are the books written below, weighing 240 pounds.

Eighty orations of Dio Chrysostom, on parchment. Dionysius of Halicarnassus, Demetrius Phalereus, Alexander, Menander, Aristides, Apsines, many excellent counsels of orators on the art of speaking. The orations of Libanius, on papyrus. The epistles of a certain Michael Gabras, on papyrus. The declamations of Libanius, on parchment. An epistle of Libanius, on papyrus. Certain works of Aristides; the natural elementation of Proclus; certain legal matters of Alcinous on the doctrine of Plato, on papyrus. The orations of Aristides, on parchment. Dio’s *Roman History*, from the 44th to the 59th book, on parchment. The orations of Aristides, on papyrus. The rhetoric of Hermogenes, the arithmetic of Nicomachus, six books of geometry, and geodesy, on papyrus. The rhetoric of Hermogenes, on papyrus. Fifty orations of Demosthenes, and the funeral orations of Lysias, on papyrus. Twenty-two orations of Demosthenes, oratorical or demegoric proems, and six epistles, on parchment. Geometry of Euclid, on papyrus. The Persian tables of Cleomedes; the arithmetic of Erisocina, and the *Imagines* of Philostratus. A book which contains several judicial texts, on papyrus, in red leather. Another similar one, in black leather. Persian tables; and a description of the astrolabe, on papyrus. Ptolemy’s *Almagest*, on parchment. Ptolemy’s *Geography*, on parchment.

^B Cleomedes, on papyrus, and Ptolemy’s *Tetrabiblos* with commentary, and many other works on astronomy, on parchment.

In the chest marked G, weighing 240 pounds, are the books written below.

The geometry of Euclid, and his *Data*; the *Sphaerica* of Theodosius; the *Phaenomena* and *Catoptrica* of Euclid; the logic of Barlaam, and the *Almagest* of Ptolemy, on papyrus. Ptolemy’s *Almagest* with the commentary of Theon, a precious book, on papyrus. The geometry of Euclid, and eighteen geometric theorems of many other authors, a precious book, on papyrus. The abacus in Greek, geodesy, Persian tables, tables of Theon, Proclus on astronomy. Ptolemy’s *Tetrabiblos*, and other works on astronomy, on papyrus. One book of the Grand Logothete on astronomy, on papyrus. Ptolemy’s *Harmonics* with the commentary of Laurentius, on papyrus. Ptolemy’s tables reduced to a compendium, on papyrus. Certain astrological tables in a small volume, on parchment. The arithmetic of Nicomachus; the *Phaenomena* of Aratus, Cleomedes, and six books of geometry, on papyrus. The arithmetic of Nicomachus the Philosopher, on papyrus. ^C Cleomedes with commentary, and arithmetic with the commentary of Philoponus, on papyrus. Cleomedes, and six books of the arithmetic of Diophantus, on papyrus. A legal book, the compendium of Armenopoulos, on papyrus. A legal book in alphabetical order, on parchment. A similar one, on parchment, and a similar one, on parchment.

In the chest marked H, weighing 230 pounds, are the books written below.

An epitome of sixty books of law in alphabetical order, on parchment. Greek *Institutions*, on parchment. A legal book, a compilation, and a collection of three emperors, on papyrus. ^D Meletius on the nature of man, on papyrus. *On the Care of Horses* by many authors, on parchment. *On the Variety and Virtue of the Elements*, on papyrus. Dioscorides on medicine, on parchment. Four books of Oribasius on medicine, on papyrus, and *On Agriculture* by diverse authors, on papyrus. Actuarius on urine, on papyrus. Paul of Aegina the physician, on parchment. Eusebius on the Life of Constantine, on papyrus. Epitome of laws, and Canons of the councils, on parchment.

A legal book of the three emperors, on paper. Photius’ narrative of those things which he had read, on parchment. Another similar, on parchment.

*In the box marked I, of 250 pounds weight, are the books written below.*

Climacus with exposition, on paper. Eusebius’ Evangelical Preparation, on paper. Acts of the fourth council, on paper. Acts of the fifth council, on parchment. Acts of the synod against Photius, and a part of another, on paper, completed on parchment. Acts of the Council of Florence. All the works of Saint Dionysius the Areopagite, on parchment, a most beautiful book. Philosophy and Theology of Damascenus, on parchment. Another similar book, on parchment. Another similar book, on paper. Saint Thomas’ first and second books against the Gentiles in Greek, on paper. Of the same, to Saint Antrocherius, and the first part of the Prima in Greek, on paper. Certain works of Acyndinus; and of Prochorus concerning attributes, on parchment. Nicolaus Cabasilas’ *De Vita*, on paper, in x. Saint Basil’s orations, in parchment, monastic style. Of the same on the same matter, on parchment, and Of the same on the same matter, on parchment. Cinoi, On the procession of the Holy Spirit, on parchment.

*In the box marked K, of 240 pounds weight, are the books written below.*

Zonaras the historian, from the creation of the world to the empire of Alexius, on paper. A little is missing, both at the beginning and at the end. Alexander and Aristotle’s Problems, on paper. Galen’s ten treatises, on parchment. Theon on Plato concerning mathematics, on parchment. Aristides’ orations, on paper. Plutarch’s Moralia, on parchment. Lucian’s orations, on paper. Acts of the sixth and seventh councils, on paper. Plutarch’s Moralia, and Aristides’ orations, on paper. Beautiful epistles of many, on paper. Dialogus of Planudes on Grammar, and Ovid’s Metamorphoses in Greek, on paper. Flowers from various authors by a certain Macarius, on paper. Many (works) on Grammar, on paper. Gregory Nazianzen on man, and Basil against Eunomius, on parchment.

^A Basil’s Hexaemeron, and against Eunomius, on parchment. Basil on Isaiah, on parchment. Epistles of Paul in Greek, and Latin, and Hebrew. Dogmatica Armatura, on paper. Excerpts from the holy doctors, on parchment. Certain orations of Chrysostom, on parchment. Monastic book of Antiochus, on parchment. Origen’s Philocalia, on parchment, and Certain commentaries on the oration of Gregory Nazianzen, on parchment.

*In the box marked O (1), of 230 pounds weight, are the books written below.*

Gregory Nazianzen’s sermons, with glosses, on paper. Laws reduced to a compendium, and canons of the councils, on parchment. Naval laws of the Rhodians from the 14th book of the Digests, and others, on parchment. Orations of Gregory Nazianzen, on parchment. First part of Saint Thomas in Greek, on parchment. Chrysostom’s homilies on various authorities of the Gospel, very beautiful, on parchment. Of the same, *Margaritae*, on parchment. Of the same on the Epistle to the Hebrews, to the Philippians, on parchment. Of the same on John, first part, on parchment, and ^C Homilies of Chrysostom compiled from the flowers of his own sermons.

*In the box marked N, of 230 pounds weight, are the books written below.*

Cyril on John, on paper. Chrysostom on the first part of Matthew, on parchment, starting from the 15th Homily. Of the same on the same, on parchment, starting from the third Homily. Saint Basil’s Hexaemeron and Morals, on parchment. Chrysostom on the second part of John, on parchment. It begins at the 55th Homily. ^D All the works of Saint Dionysius the Areopagite, on parchment. Saint Basil on Isaiah, on parchment. Against the Hagarenes by the Jews, on paper. Chrysostom’s *Andriantes*, on parchment. Certain homilies of Chrysostom, among which are five on the praises of blessed Paul, on parchment. Chrysostom on John, second part, on parchment, and Certain things of Gregory Nyssen, Eusebius, Origen, Zachariah, Aeneas, Theophilus, and Epiphanius, on parchment.

(1) This is, as it seems, because the letter N is placed after the letter O, and thus two letters are missing, or omitted through the negligence of the librarian, or for another reason unknown to me.

In the chest marked P, weighing 230 pounds, are the books written below. Speeches of many doctors on various feast days. It begins on the fifth of September. It ends with the praise of Joseph, in parchment. Metaphrastes for the month of November from the 17th to the end. Lives of the Saints for the months of March and April, in parchment. Metaphrastes, second part of the month of January, in parchment. Eight speeches, of which three are by Saint Basil, and some others, in parchment. Metaphrastes for the month of November from the 17th to the end, in parchment. Many Sermons of the blessed Gregory of Nazianzus, in papyrus. ^B Metaphrastes for the month of December, from the middle onwards. Metaphrastes of the Lives of the Saints, in parchment, from the middle onwards for the month of December. Metaphrastes for the month of October, in parchment, and Praises of the blessed Virgin, and of many Saints, in parchment.

In the chest marked Q, weighing 240 pounds, are the books written below. Panegyric sermons, diverse, in parchment. Exposition on Luke: Poems of Nazianzus with an exposition by Dionysius the Areopagite, with the theological exposition of Damascene. Exposition on the Apocalypse, and many other things, in papyrus. Metaphrastes, second half of November, in parchment. Metaphrastes of the Lives of the Saints for the month of December from the first half, in parchment. Metaphrastes of November, the first half, in parchment. Metaphrastes, January, in parchment. Saint Epiphanius, Panaria, in parchment, and Saint Maximus, orations, in parchment, diverse. Metaphrastes for the month of November, second part, in parchment.

In the chest marked R, weighing 230 pounds, are the books written below. ^D Saint Cyril to Palladium, on Worship in spirit and truth, in papyrus. Epistles of Saint Gregory of Nazianzus, in parchment. Sermons of Saint Gregory of Nazianzus, in parchment. Saint Athanasius, in parchment. Sermons of Saint Chrysostom on the Epistle to the Romans, in parchment. Sermons of diverse doctors on the Lives of the Saints for the months of July and August, in parchment. Chrysostom, exposition on the Epistles of Paul to the Corinthians, to Philemon, to Titus, and to the Galatians, in parchment. Saint John Damascene, Parallela (Sacra Parallela), in parchment, and Cyril, Treasures (Thesaurus), in parchment.

In the chest marked S, weighing 240 pounds, are the books written below. Chrysostom on the Acts of the Apostles, in parchment. Chrysostom on the Epistles to the Ephesians, Philippians, and Colossians, in parchment. Saint Chrysostom on the first part of the holy Evangelist John, in parchment. Exposition of Chrysostom on part of Isaiah, and many ^C sayings on the same Isaiah, or on a certain part, Chrysostom on part of Jeremiah. Theodoret, bishop of Cyrrhus, on all of Jeremiah, in parchment. Sermons of the Great Athanasius, in papyrus. Epistles of Isidore of Pelusium, in papyrus. Chrysostom on the second part of Matthew, in parchment. Saint Maximus the Philosopher, in parchment. Aristobulus the Monk against the Jews, in papyrus. Some expositions on the Sunday Gospels according to the Greeks, in papyrus. Chrysostom on the second part of Matthew, in parchment, and Basil against Eunomius, and Gregory of Nazianzus on the Hexaemeron, in parchment.

In the chest marked T, weighing 230 pounds, are the books written below. Chrysostom, part of the Margarites, in parchment. Chrysostom, Andriantes (Homilies on the Statues), in parchment. Chrysostom, Homilies on diverse matters, in parchment. Origen, exposition on Matthew and John, in papyrus. Chrysostom, Hexaemeron, second part, in parchment. Saint Basil, Moralia, in parchment. Chrysostom, Andriantes, in parchment. Authorities on attributes, in papyrus. Epistles of Saint Basil, in parchment.

In the chest marked V, weighing 250 pounds, are the books written below. Chrysostom on the Psalter, and other of his Homilies, in parchment. Chrysostom, exposition on the Epistles of Paul to the Colossians and Thessalonians, the first and second, to Timothy, the first and second, in parchment. The Rule of Saint Basil, which is inscribed Ascetica, in parchment. Andriantes of Chrysostom, in parchment. Isaiah the prophet with expositions, in parchment.

Exposition by Chrysostom on the First Epistle to the Corinthians, in parchment. ^A The Moralia of Saint Basil, in parchment. Diverse Orations of Gregory Nazianzen, in parchment. Orations of Gregory Nazianzen, in papyrus. Chrysostom on the Psalter, and the same author’s On Virginity, and other beautiful orations, in parchment. Twenty-eight Orations of Saint Gregory Nazianzen with exposition, in papyrus.

In the chest marked AA, weighing 250 pounds, are the books written below. Chrysostom’s Hexaemeron, in parchment. The first part of Chrysostom’s Hexaemeron, in parchment. Saint Gregory of Nyssa, in parchment. Gregory of Nyssa against Eunomius, in papyrus. The Metaphrast for the month of September, in parchment. Lives of the Saints Dorotheus, Isaiah, Mark, and Dialogues concerning monastic life, in parchment. Diverse and excellent orations of Saint Nilus, in parchment. Orations of Saint Ephrem concerning monastic life, in parchment. Lives of the Holy Fathers by Theodoret of Cyrrhus to Palladius, bound, and concerning the Brahmins, in parchment. Erimachus and Isaac, in parchment. Notable accounts of the Holy Fathers, in parchment. Saint Mark, in parchment.

In the chest marked 9, weighing 230 pounds, are the books written below. The Psalter with the best expositions of many doctors, in parchment. The Old Testament, from Genesis VI to Esdras, in parchment. ^B The Psalter with the exposition of Theodoret, in parchment. The Old Testament, from Genesis to Esther, in parchment. The Four Gospels with expositions, in parchment.

In the chest marked [blank], the books written below are contained, weighing 250 pounds. Procopius’ exposition on Isaiah, in parchment. Many orations of Saint Ephrem concerning monastic life, in parchment. Theodoret on the Epistles of Paul, in parchment. Expositions on the books of Solomon and Job, in parchment. Climacus with the exposition of Elias of Crete, in papyrus. Job, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Songs, Wisdom of Solomon, Jesus Sirach, the Prophets, Tobias, Judith, the three books of Maccabees, and Josephus "On Reason as the Guide of the Emotions of the Soul," in parchment. Ecclesiastes and the Song of Songs with exposition, in parchment. Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, and the Song of Songs with exposition, and Justin on the Catholic Faith, and Saint Basil on the fact that substance and hypostasis are not the same, in parchment. The Psalter with the exposition of Zigabenus, in parchment. ^C The Four Gospels in a most beautiful volume covered with silk, in parchment. Melissa, Cassianus, and Maximus, in parchment. The Four Gospels in a small volume, in parchment. The Octateuch, the four books of Kings, the two books of Maccabees, in parchment.

And behold that Catalogue of the Bessarion Library, which is preserved in the Riccardiana Library at shelf S, section II, and which I called more clear and exact than the one published by B. de Montfaucon, for no other reason than that it seems to be contemporaneous with Bessarion, as I have hinted; and it is the one that those who were in charge of this task compiled while they were arranging the books into chests; so that there is no doubt that these books which are listed are the very ones that Bessarion donated to the Venetians. Certainly, the one that Montfaucon published was not composed in this simple and haphazard fashion, but according to the alphabetical order: from which it is perhaps to be understood that it is much later. Those, however, who have the leisure, will be able to compare both Catalogues, and thus know whether all those same books are preserved, or whether others were added later, or if any other difference exists between them. Certainly, the Catalogue that I myself produce seems to have been written by a person less skilled, and indeed by a Greek—which the very pronunciation of the Greek vowels proves; and by one less learned in Latin letters, which orthographical errors argue; and by one somewhat uneducated, which the passive corruption of names demonstrates. We, however, have removed most of the errors as far as could be done, and have brought them to a more correct spelling, although we have left many things intact, where the sense could be detected to some degree even from the wrong position. Furthermore, in reading this Catalogue, I have observed some things which it would not be unwelcome to the learned reader to recount here, and they are as follows:

CAPSA A. Joannes Italicus on the Logic and Topics of Aristotle. Phil. Labbeus mentions only his commentary on the book *On Interpretation*; but Lambecius [mentions] another on the *Topics*. This man was a disciple of Michael Psellus, ^D of whom there also exists a *Synoptic Method of Rhetoric*. SAME CHEST. *Erotemata* of Plochoprodomus; of which many other works, and some otherwise unknown, [are included].

as mentioned in the Catalog of certain Greek manuscripts, liberally shared with me by the distinguished Scipione Maffei.

CHEST B. Olympiodorus on certain Dialogues of Plato; and the Gospel of Matthew with Commentaries. Some orations of Plotinus, which are highly to be valued indeed if they are distinct from his books which are in circulation.

CHEST D. Proclus on Plato's *Parmenides*. Damascene—that is to say, it seems, Damascius—*On Principles* and on the *Parmenides*. A history of the deeds of the Emperor Maurice, and the *Exposition of Arithmetic* by Asclepius or Aesculapius of Tralles, not Tradani. Two codices of Josephus on the captivity, or the Jewish War.

CHEST E. Theogenes the Mathematician, and Charicles the Physician, as it seems. All of Plutarch's *Parallels*, a most beautiful book. It cannot be that one which the Benedictine monks of Florence lent to Bessarion; for that one contained only part of Plutarch's *Parallels*; and a record exists of another most beautiful codex of Plutarch's *Parallels* which remained with those same monks, as can also be seen in Montfaucon's *Diarium Italicum* and in his *Bibliotheca Bibliothecarum*. It is not "Aladamantis," but "Alcidamantis," that should be read, the two orations. Agathias, on the names and ranks of the battle lines. *Naucratis*, that is to say, the *Conviviorum* or *Deipnosophistae* [Banquet of the Learned] of Athenaeus of Naucratis.

CHEST F. Menander, who is commemorated here, seems to be a rhetorician, not a comic poet. Minucianus the rhetorician. The Epistles of a certain Michael Gabras. The *Persian Tables* of Cleomedes. That "Erisocinae Arithmetica," I believe, is corrupt, nor can it be easily restored by me. Should it be read "Chrysococca," whose *Astronomical Tables* are also mentioned by Montfaucon?

CHEST G. Euclid's *Phaenomena* and *Data*. The *Logistica* of Barlaam. Ptolemy's *Almagest* with the commentary of Theon; which commentary also exists in the Laurentian library, if I am not mistaken. Forty-four Geometric Theorems of many authors.

^A Albacus in Greek, perhaps a corrupt name; and certainly in Montfaucon it is read as *Abacus*. Proclus on Astronomy. The Music of Ptolemy with the commentary of Laurentius. The Compendium of Armenopoulos.

CHEST H. A compilation and collection of the laws of three emperors. Meletius *on the Nature of Man*.

CHEST I. Acts of the fifth synod. The *Philosophy and Theology* of Damascenus. Saint Thomas's first and second [books] *Against the Gentiles* in Greek; for Demetrius Cydonius translated this work into Greek. In the following article, it should be read "to the Cantor of Antioch," and it is a *Declaration of certain articles against the Greeks, Armenians, and Saracens*. What that "Cinoi" might be, I am utterly ignorant, unless perhaps "Cydonii" should be read, as is gathered from Montfaucon.

CHEST K. Epistles of many. Ovid's *Metamorphoses* in Greek. Flowers from diverse authors by a certain Macarius. The Epistles of Paul in Greek, Latin, and Hebrew. A *Dogmatic Armor*. The monastic book of Antiochus.

CHEST O. The first part of Saint Thomas, in Greek.

CHEST P. The Praises of the Blessed Virgin by many saints.

CHEST Q. Various panegyrical sermons. Poems of Nazianzenus with a commentary by Dionysius the Areopagite. If the inscription truly reads this way, I see that this contributes much to the opinion of those who judge that the Pseudo-Dionysius the Areopagite lived only in the fifth century. But I think the passage suffers from its punctuation, and should be read: *Poems of Nazianzenus with [a] commentary. Dionysius the Areopagite with [a] theological commentary of Damascenus*.

CHEST S. It must be noted that [entry concerning] Saint Maximus the philosopher. That indeed, "of Aristobulus the monk against the Jews," I think should be read "of Christodulus the monk against the Jews"; and indeed the IX Dialogues of this man against the Jews exist in the library of St. Mark in Venice, just as they do in the Riccardian library in Florence.

CHEST T. Authorities on the attributes, which seem to regard the heresy of the Palamites.

CHEST Ὦ. Procopius's exposition on Isaiah.

And these things, indeed, I observed as I was reading the Catalog, as being more worthy of note for my own use, leaving it to others to select for their own purposes those things which are most excellent here. Although indeed a most exact Catalog of all these books has recently been made public by the most learned men in Venice, yet the reasons why I have edited this very ancient and perhaps archetypal one are the same as those which I brought forward above, when I spoke about that which Montfaucon edited.

The following epistle, with the two replies of Gemistus Plethon to the questions of Bessarion, was edited by François Denis Camusat in his notes to Ciaconius's *Bibliotheca*, Paris, 1731, folio, but so inaccurately that the meaning can barely be gleaned. Camusat shared nothing with the reader concerning the manuscript he used. Juan de Yriarte reports that it exists in the Madrid codex LXXX; he provided the beginnings in his *Catalogus codicum Græcorum Matritensium*, p. 295, stating that everything still lies hidden also in the Imperial manuscripts.

A'. Bessarion the Cardinal to Plethon. We find that not a few of Plato's companions—such as Proclus, Hermias, and Damascius—held that the soul, and those who before it ^D were either intelligible and intellectual beings, or [were] independent gods, were not without cause in any respect, except for the First and Cause of all. And someone might say that not even for Porphyry, Iamblichus, Syrianus, and the rest of that circle of men, did it seem otherwise concerning such a great and such a matter, at least for those who were aforementioned.

^A For just as from one single opinion the triad of the aforementioned men declares such things among beings to be self-subsistent, and as self-subsistent in such a way that they exist by themselves and are causes of themselves, and are at once both caused and causes; for, indeed, in his *Elements of Theology*, one might find Proclus making much discourse concerning self-subsistent things, and likewise in his commentaries upon the *Parmenides*, not as some say, that all which is produced is produced by another cause, which we must also say, he says, but just as we are accustomed to set forth self-moved things as prior to those moved by others, so also must the self-subsistent be set forth prior to those produced by another. For if it is what perfects itself, it is also what generates itself. And if it is a self-subsistent thing, it is clear that it is such as both to produce itself and to be produced by itself; for I say, he says, that a self-subsistent thing is that which produces itself. Similar to these things, he also philosophizes in his *Theology of Plato*. And with the same arguments both Hermias in his commentaries on the *Phaedrus*, and Damascius in his treatise *On First Principles*, conclude that the soul is self-subsistent. And the same persons dogmatize that the same soul, and things more divine than it (except for the First One or the Good), are produced by all the (prime-creating) causes, some from more, others from fewer, just as each would have it, by way of lowering or exaltation, if all things are finally brought back to one first cause from which they also proceed. This it is possible to see from the *Elements of Theology* of Proclus and from those he composed upon the *Parmenides*, where he says that the forms, being distinguished and multiplied within themselves, have obtained the power of self-subsistent things, existing from the prime-creating causes but also being produced by themselves. Concerning the soul, moreover, Olympiodorus in his commentaries on the *Phaedo* says that it has subsisted in two ways: from itself and by God. He says it is perfected in two ways, and again in the same place he says it is a Platonic tenet that the soul is its own producer. These things, then, they seem to say concerning such beings, as things which would not otherwise be immortal; if they were not such, they would not be produced by themselves; for just as they construct the immortality and indestructibility of such substances through that which is self-moved, so they do also through the self-subsistent. This, then, is thus and so.

II. Question concerning the participable and the imparticipable.

Another point is that every monad, and likewise the commanding cause in each series—in the aforementioned writings, the same men say that these are not only these things, but also the very cause of all things, in one respect imparticipable and in another participable; the former, because neither the principle of certain things is self-subsistent in any of those of which it is said to be the cause, nor is the principle of all things whatever self-subsistent of any of those things said to be subsisting in any way, being the cause of them all. Whence also the first ^B name of the One, being so by participation in the First One, they say is called by this name, but that—that which is participated—must be that by which it is participated. And to this follows that the One is in the multitude, and is not at once around all things. These, then, are apparent contradictions, but are least of all so—for I would not dare to say this; it would be yours, most wise of men, the only one now who is a guide and initiate of the Platonic vision, to resolve them sufficiently and to set forth some teaching for us concerning these things; for it presses upon me strongly, and, having pondered many solutions, I have found none as yet that would be sufficient. And what one might gather as a seemingly apparent contradiction in these matters, or what a person might bring against a self-subsistent thing, drawing conclusions that are impossible and absurd to the argument, I would have set forth, had I not been avoiding prolixity and at the same time knowing that you, with your most penetrating mind, grasp everything.

III. Question concerning the synonymy or homonymy of beings.

In addition to these things, it is necessary to know this also, that Proclus opines that names belong to sensible things from the intelligible ones, neither homonymously nor purely synonymously, but as things derived from one and directed toward one, agreeing, as he says, with Plato, that those are primarily what is said, but these secondarily. For every number, he says, is suspended from its own proper and coordinate monad, from which it also has its subsistence and its ^C appellation, not synonymously nor aimlessly and as it happened, but as things derived from one and directed toward one; so that both the beings and the one monad are primary, and it is called being, through which these also, according to their own order, are and are named beings; and from this, all beings are sympathetic one to another, and the same in a way, insofar as they are from one being. And elsewhere: for what is the one form primarily, he says, this is what is under it [as the] many, secondarily. And Olympiodorus in his commentaries on the *Phaedo* says: Homonymous to their paradigms are the images, as the name preserves its identity, while the thing has departed from the paradigm into the image.

IV. Question concerning fate.

Moreover, the much-discussed dogma of fate and necessity is also being torn apart, it seems to me, by Simplicius and Olympiodorus, the former in his reflections on the *Enchiridion* of Epictetus, where he acts as an advocate against those who make all things necessary, setting forth their arguments and refuting them; then he himself proves and concludes that the assumption and appetition of the soul, and in general its choice and preference, are self-determined and in no way forced. For otherwise, he does not think that its self-moved [nature] can be saved, or in general its essence, but that at the same time as the removing of "that which is in our power," its essence also is removed. And you know of what school Simplicius is, and how he drank most bountifully from the Academic spring, having been a student of Ammonius and Damascius, the exponents of Plato. The other...

^A Olympiodorus, in his commentaries on the *Gorgias* and the *Republic*, on the text "God is blameless, the chooser is responsible," says that it is an opinion of the power of choice to think that all things happen by necessity and fate, and that nothing comes from our own power of choice; for, he says, do not think that it is impossible to die outside of fate. It is possible, if indeed the power of choice should compel it; for even fate is bound to Providence. And again, in the same works, he introduces Ammonius, postulating that the self-motion of the soul prevails over the law of fate, in these words: "For I," he says, "know some men who, as far as the astrological charts of adulterers are concerned, possess them and yet are temperate regarding the self-motion of the soul." And in his commentaries on the *Alcibiades*, "From the questions of God," he says, "it arises that lives are according to choice and not compelled; for He says, 'Whatever you wish.' Thus [you will be delivered] ^B from great perplexities. And again, 'You yourselves will choose the daimon, the daimon will not claim you; for it is within our power to choose such a life as this; but having chosen, to perform the consequences of the life is not within our power, but is necessary.' You know too that Proclus, in his *Elements of Theology*, asserts that God necessarily knows the things that are possible, and from this he permits the contingent, and Ammonius uses the same expressions as if from Iamblichean premises, in which he interprets what Aristotle says about the contingent in the *De Interpretatione*. To reject such and so many men is not very easy. If, therefore, you were to evaluate these things now, not considering the labor, but the profit that will come to those who will encounter them, you would grant me the greatest of favors."

REPLY OF GEMISTUS TO BESSARION

Regarding the Creator of the Universe.

You must not think that all these men whom you enumerate are in agreement with one another, but rather that while the greater and more authoritative points harmonize ^C among them, there is nevertheless a disagreement on certain matters. For instance, Proclus, in fashioning the immediate creator of this heaven, draws the dogmas of Plato into the myths of Orpheus, and posits him as fourth from the First Cause; but Plotinus as third, he having looked to the majority of the poets; and Julian as second, perhaps having been taught this by Maximus. And it seems that Plato puts forward this view more so, and not as Proclus or even Plotinus assert, from the points in the *Psychogonia* where he says the soul of the intelligible things, which are always existing, has been made best of the generated things by the Best. But Proclus distorts even this, connecting the "always existing" of the intelligible things to the higher circle, which needs no such addition; and by leaving the "from the Best" ^D as lacking for some, [he ignores] the Best. Furthermore, Proclus derives matter from the First Cause, but Plotinus from the second and intelligible essence after the First, the opinion concerning evil demons. Some of them are clearly not accepting this, just as Plato is not; others, accepting it, have been led to this by the opinion of the Egyptians; for neither the magical oracles of the Magi from Zoroaster, which Pythagoras and Plato himself appear to also follow, admit this opinion in what he says: "Nature does not persuade [us] that demons are pure." And as for the reason of fate, some of these men destroy it, while others establish it. But enough of these things for now.

Regarding the things you ask, we say the following; and first concerning the separate [intellects]: for those who speak thus would not claim that each of these is equally the cause of man, but that there is already some multiplied unity.

The God, then, who produces each of them, being the strongest of each multiplied [entity] immediately, producing the remainder, produces all things through this, his own strongest [part]; and thus each of them is produced by the First Cause, and is itself a produced [thing], [with] a part producing the remainder of itself, just as also the soul is in some way self-moving, moving the remainder of itself by a part. For it is most clearly shown in the soul that both its will and its impulse are moved by that which thinks within it; but that which thinks within it is moved by the business surrounding it, and neither is the soul self-moving in such a way as not to be moved also by another, nor is that which is produced itself, neither this nor any of the things above it, such as not to be produced also by another. Those, therefore, who speak thus might say something; but those who speak otherwise would not likely be saying anything; for neither would it ever move anything unless it were multiplied. And it would be much less able to produce; for it must be distinguished in some way both as producing and as being produced, and as moving and as being moved, and it is not right for those who profess to be wise to overturn such common notions.

But the First is not itself produced, but is itself through itself, and our thinking, in thinking itself, is both self-motion and a certain homonymous motion of a turning towards itself. And one must not construct the eternity of the soul and of the things above it in this way, from the self-moving and self-producing, but much rather from the indivisibility of their own most authoritative essence and the immediate production from the Unmoved Cause, and [rather] that the self-moving and the self-producing are evidence. For Proclus says that the self-moving must be the medium of the unmoved and the heterokinetic (that moved by another), and that this is what connects the heterokinetic to the unmoved; but even if it moves or produces any of the other things that have fallen with it, might it be a first of them and preeminent? But if such [it be], and indivisible. And as for these things, so far.

To the second question. Regarding the participated and the unparticipated, nothing prevents, since the terms "to participate" and "to be participated in" are used in many ways,

^A and the same things are said to be unparticipated in one respect and participated in another. For one type of participation would be that according to cause alone, by which all that is productive might be participated in by the product—as something of its own being—even if the productive cause should remain separate and apart by itself. Another is that according to addition, by which the productive cause, whether moving or in any way ruling, adds to itself that which is disposed by it. Thus, certainly, whatever it might do, it does toward it. The former participation, then, would be that of separate things toward the things here, and the latter, that of the soul toward the body. Thus much, therefore, regarding this matter.

To the third question.

^B Regarding the homonymy of the things here toward the separate forms: since of homonymous things, some have a common name without any real communion, while others commune with one another in reality, but to a small degree the ones are attached to the others—and this is coincidental and does not contribute to a common essence, just as animals that are drawn relate to the true ones—yet if they do commune in some greater degree, they are nevertheless encompassed in ten thousand different genera; for the things that have a common name in different genera are homonymous, as happens with "medical," both in art, and in the woman, and in the instrument—for this one has the art as its own genus, that one the technical skill, and that one the instrument—that is how things are. Thus, things here in relation to the separate forms, even if they commune in some great measure with one another, still, because they happen to be in different genera, they would be homonymous. For to those here, existence is temporal or material; to those there, it is eternal or separate. However, as for all beings—whatever anyone might choose and in whatever way—they do not happen to be in other different genera, and they obtain commonality with one another and the greatest contribution to their essence: existence itself. For what could be greater than this, contributing to the essence of each? ^C But they would not be called "beings" unless, perhaps, one claimed that all other things have existence homonymously in relation to the first cause alone—unless the one and good be attributed to Proclus, and "being" according to Julian to that one. For to what else does "being" more properly belong than to that which is through itself and for itself? For in this way, all other things might have existence homonymously, but not homonymously toward one another, inasmuch as they all proceed from one principle. For the fact that some participate more in being and others less will not prevent them all from being ordered under one genus. For if one considers it correctly, one will find all things that are distinguished from some common genus divided into some things more perfect and others less perfect; and the more perfect things participate more in the common genus or form than the less perfect ones. For example, animal is divided into immortal and mortal; the immortal is more perfect and is more an animal, if indeed it is more alive; and it is also divided into logical and a little of the same, in that the logical is likewise more perfect and more of an animal, if indeed the rational life is greater. But not even that which is less white is homonymous to that which is whiter, ^D inasmuch as it is white, in that the thing which is greater participates more in white and the lesser less. Those things, however, would justly be excluded from "being" and would be called homonymous, such as privations and destructions and, in general, evils, as they are all outfalls of being. But enough regarding this also.

To the fourth question.

Regarding the theory of fate, it is not possible to remove fate and any of the things that are to come, while those two axioms both remain firmly established: first, that all that is a cause of anything acts of necessity and definitely; and second, that everything that happens happens from some cause. For Aristotle, in his *Metaphysics*, having grasped the necessity from these two axioms, and as they are both firmly established, is in danger—lest he lose the possible that rests in both—of destroying, so that he not lose his own possible, one of these two axioms: that there are some things that happen without any cause whatsoever, ridiculously destroying what is apparent and seems so to all, and setting up as his own that which is opposed by the majority. Let us look, then, where those who advocate for Aristotle claim this "possible in both directions" and "equilibrium" to be, where they also seem to posit it, or say that our will is moved by no cause at all, but even in vain. For in order that they might cast this reverence upon our soul as well, casting vanity upon it, or if they allow our will to be moved by that which is good—or appears so—just as it appears to be moved, it is necessary for them to also have it moved by necessity. Our will, therefore, would not be self-moving, if it appears to be moved by our faculty of reason and the good. But our whole soul is self-moving, by moving the remainder of itself through a part of itself—where Aristotle also claims the self-moving to be established (for Aristotle is not to be denigrated in the things in which he appears to speak well), yet the moving principle within us is also moved both by the things that are already surrounding us from without, and indeed by the divine, when it is possible for it to follow the divine interpretation and not fall away—and this is our faculty of reason, which moves the remainder of the soul by thoughts that come upon it from without: the will, and impulse, and the passions that follow these in turn; inward joy, not that which comes through sensation, and likewise indignation, and hope, and fear, and desire, and anger, and further, alongside these, imagination. For these are the things that the faculty of reason moves, and over which it rules, though it is moved from without. The Stoics called these "up to us," inasmuch as they are in our most authoritative part, the faculty of reason. But our faculty of reason itself is not in the power of any other of our things, nor is it in its own power. But those who destroy fate, being cornered by their own arguments, take refuge in that defense, saying that this faculty of reason of ours is in our own will,

^A and one must also have an opinion about this, namely that we have considered it as something that must be cared for and practiced—a thing which, once it has already manifested itself in our rational faculty, we should never have been able to care for or to desire, and in this way our rational faculty moves the will according to itself under the influence of such a belief, which has already moved it previously. Thus, therefore, that which is self-moved, nor the things in our power, correctly destroys fate. And those who first named these terms demonstrate this: Plato [names] the one, and the Stoics the other, not indeed destroying fate, but rather positing it in accordance with their opinion; for the Stoics even exhort [people] to bring forward frequently those iambics: "Lead me, O Zeus, and thou, O Fate, whithersoever I have been ordained by you to follow." ^B But against these men it appears everywhere that the dogmas are the things that move us, as they proclaim, and they do not deem it right to be angry at the wicked, inasmuch as they are compelled by the dogmas to do evil and sin even against their will. For if the dogmas move us, they move us surely by necessity; and Plato also appears everywhere to assert that the soul chooses whatever it chooses together with necessity. But one must not seek all things said in his myths as if they were strictly precise; for it is a peculiarity of myths not to speak everything with strict precision. Nevertheless, even there a certain necessity is apparent for souls in the choice of their lives, since he speaks according to the habit of the former life and according to a certain sequence; but if [it proceeds] according to a sequence, it is not without a cause; and not being without a cause, and together with ^B necessity. But he who, being cornered by the themes of adultery, insists on the destruction of fate, inasmuch as he attempts this from such themes which are difficult to distinguish, and not having himself judged well according to probability, is reasonably not convincing to us. Regarding him, we shall add to all these points that those who attempt to argue that they destroy fate by saying that God knows definitively things that are indefinite are not rightly dissolving [the problem]; for if the indefinite is a certain relation concerning the double—which ^C is an existing relation, of this double [thing], and again the same is the half—perhaps those who speak in this way might seem to be saying something. But since, if anything else is absolute, the indefinite would be similar to what is said, just as if they affirmed that God knows the ox as being a man, or the man as a star. What knowledge, then, is this that knows something else about the thing known than what the thing known actually is? Furthermore, it is agreed by all the wise that God knows everything He makes. If, therefore, He knows everything by the fact of creating it, He would surely also define whatever He makes and knows, and nothing would be indefinite of those things which He Himself, either directly or through intermediaries, makes and knows; and He would make and know all things that possess goodness, if He is to have his providence and knowledge in a way that is not truncated. And evils, as being just failures of being, would not even require a cause. So that God would not be held responsible by the logic of the ultimate providence and fate for the cause of these things. That is as much as we contribute to the raised questions, enough for a man such as yourself.

ANSWER OF GEMISTUS TO BESSARION

Since you also need testimonies regarding the things written to you before, in regard to the things I have said about the self-derived, I would not be able to provide you with any testimony; for I myself have not said what I said with full conviction, but only wishing to indicate this much: that if those who speak of the self-derived posit it in such a way, they would not fall into contradiction with themselves. Regarding the participant, as to how the participant is spoken of in many ways, read the *Parmenides* of Plato; for you will find there both participations in the communion of things here with the intelligible forms, and the one, as being most rejected, and the other as least [rejected], the one according to cause, indeed, in those places where he says that these forms stand as it were as paradigms in nature, and the other things resemble them and are likenesses; and the participation—this becoming on the part of the others of the forms—is none other than to be imaged after them; for here he calls participation according to cause and this paradigmatic [mode], and not [the one] according to interlacing. But do not let the homonymy of being disturb you—that things here are called homonymous to the intelligible things; for it does not follow that, if man here is homonymous to the intelligible man in that both are men, that beings are also necessarily homonymous; for not even if the sea dog is homonymous with the land dog in that both are called dogs, does it follow that these two animals ^D are homonymous. But as regards the argument of fate, I will offer you no other testimony than that of Plato himself, that one from the *Epinomis*. "The soul, once it possesses necessity, would be the greatest of all necessities; for, commanding, it legislation acts, and is not commanded." And the "unchanging," when the soul has deliberated on the best according to the best intellect, it results perfect in reality according to intellect, and nothing would be stronger than this, nor would it ever become more unchanging; but in truth, holding three parts, they keep it perfect, according to the best counsel of each of the gods. So far from holding to the opinion of Plato are those who declare the opinion of fate to be that of a degenerate soul, when he attributes the greatest of necessities to the most prudent soul. But perhaps one might think that he does not also attribute necessity to the foolish soul regarding something; but Plato is clear even regarding such a one, everywhere crying out and insisting that no one is evil willingly, but the evil become evil involuntary through sinning; and if they are involuntary, it is evident that it is because of some necessity. That, however, should not escape you—which escapes the many and disturbs them greatly—that in one way necessity is spoken of according to which everything that does not admit of being otherwise is called necessary. Another [way]...

is when one posits three numbers as bases, 3, 4, 5, and from these, by multiplying them by themselves and by one another, ^A generates the analogies which he calls harmonies: the arithmetic and the harmonic. The arithmetic [he generates] by the preponderance of the terms, and the harmonic by the 3 and the 5, taking each of the 4 [numbers]—which are multiplied by themselves and then by one another—namely 12, 15, 20. For of these numbers the 13 exceeds the 12 by the second part of it, the 12, and it is exceeded by the 20 by the same part, the fourth part, of it, the 20, derived from the aforementioned bases; and he says that squares are generated from them, to which two non-squares are brought forth. For the squares do not come from rational diameters, nor from the thirds, which, as to the diameter in relation to the side, do not make a square of the same numerical capacity. But as for how the two non-squares are brought forth along with the hundred squares, I have never examined anything regarding this, avoiding the difficulty of the theorem, just as the wise Cydones also, having been ^B asked once about it, answered nothing, but indicated the difficulty by gesture alone, and at the same time, seeing that it is not very useful, considered it to be of no great importance, but merely a certain fable that Plato added to such a theorem.

GEORGIUS AMIRUTZES TO BESSARION

Most reverend and most venerable father and master in Christ, may you be healthy and well in all things.

What I have long foretold and testified to our citizens, and have written to your Lordship, begging that you should at least receive and save one of my children, has come to pass and reached its end. Although I know that reporting terrible things, and such as you could not pass by without tears, is grievous to you, yet I would lay upon you a small favor by hiding the new calamities. For what advantage is there in being aware of one's own evils? At the same time, I would be speaking in vain, as rumor has already trumpeted and made a ^C tragedy of it everywhere, I believe. Know, then, that our common homeland, alas! has been captured by aliens and has come to the test of the most terrible things. Although it was captured by agreement, yet it gained nothing from the terms upon which it was betrayed; it has suffered things akin to those taken by main force in war. So the chapter of evils is spoken, concerning which I have ^D mourned for many days and many nights, I believe, for I am naturally sympathetic, both in general and especially towards the Greeks, and I love my homeland to the utmost; yet it is necessary to add briefly how it happened, so that you yourselves may not be discouraged in this part. For a terrible thing that is unknown is accustomed to cause more grief.

For the one who is greatly powerful and rules over many and most vast nations, now king of the Greeks and Romans—perhaps having no cause for complaint, but out of a love for glory and a desire for greater dominion—having equipped a great fleet, not so much in the multitude of triremes (for they were not many more than a hundred) as in every kind of preparation and siege engines, he sent it against Sinope and the other Paphlagonians; and he himself, leading a land army of over one hundred and fifty thousand, without regarding any other thing, crossed into Asia. And having thus recklessly invaded the enemy territory, he gave [this declaration] in Florence before the king and the patriarch...

^A regarding everyone, contrary to expectation, he immediately prevailed. For the Paphlagonians neither saw any enemies rushing down from the fields nor any time for delay; but, as if they no longer hoped for anything good from any quarter, they even disregarded fortune herself, ^B who had often rescued many from great dangers. And so, having surrendered the cities and fortresses along with their own leader, they immediately made him their master. And with matters having proceeded so contrary to expectation, he, having pondered something greater with reason, immediately sent the fleet against us, while it was still intact and completely unacquainted with evils, while he himself marched against the ruler of the Cappadocians and the Mesopotamians. ^B He [the ruler], at first hearing, did not believe it, and thought it to be mere boasting; for no one—while we were alive—believed that he would be so far removed from his seat of power. But when he learned it was true and heard that the enemies had made an incursion into his territory, he was struck with terror, and it was no longer a matter of noble reflections, especially with treachery suspected on the part of his brother; but hesitation and shrinking back seized him, and he did not dare to cast the die for the whole. Quickly, therefore, leaving the region through which the enemies were going to pass devoid of men, he himself always retreated a little and withdrew from the camp. Not that he [the enemy leader] followed him closely in pursuit; but he was content that the enemies were departing, winning a bloodless victory.

This man, therefore, having taught the enemies, once he arrived at our borders and gained control of the mountain passes, abandoned everything else and marched against us. But the fleet, having appeared suddenly into our waters, offered great astonishment and confusion. For it seemed to us that he would not have attacked in view of the oaths ^C that had been made recently and the fact that he [the Sultan] had failed in none of the agreements, and because there was, at the same time as the siege of Sinope, a delay and the expectation of time, we thought it would not be a small matter [that he would be kept busy there]. Suddenly, however, he appeared sailing against the city. Therefore, we were neither able to gather the soldiers whom we had, nor to bring in the supplies from the fields, but it seemed necessary to guard the city out of sheer pressure. In this way, the enemies disembarked at their leisure—being no fewer than ten thousand, and best equipped—and for some time were ravaging the areas before the city, both destroying the grain and burning the houses, and then, having locked us within the walls, they besieged us. For about forty days the war lasted, in which we seemed to be always prevailing and to be inflicting the most harm to the enemies because, ^D whenever we engaged, we slew many, and we ourselves, sallying out, inflicted the worst upon them. And a good hope nurtured our souls that we would destroy the entire fleet. And we might have accomplished the task, know this effectively, had not the entire army on land been seen earlier, approaching from above with their own commander. For this saved those who had come closest to being destroyed and were planning to flee by night, but it completely destroyed us. For neither the plains before the city nor the ravines on either side could contain the army; but even the visible hills and mounds were not sufficient for them to encamp.

Immediately, therefore, he was active, and having set up the greatest of siege engines—the likes of which the sun had not yet seen—he used them against the city. She [the city] was immediately in despair, and the better hope had abandoned her entirely. For necessities were already scarce, and the water had run out completely—a thing that had never occurred in all of time; and the people no longer wished to cast themselves into an open danger, but looked to terms. Nothing more seemed possible from the present situation to sustain the war; but it was clear that she was already about to be taken by force. So, it seemed to the majority, as they were deliberating, to move toward an agreement, so that they might not, as captives, go begging for land and sea.

Thus, therefore, the agreements having been carried out, they surrendered the city and themselves; and the most free of cities, which had fought brilliantly for liberty in the previous time, and had reached great status and glory, came to be under barbarians, alas! And now it endures dishonorable slavery, a great grief not only to those of the same faith, but to all the barbarians in Asia. And when they gained control of the city and held all the Comneni as if in one dragnet, they immediately took boys and maidens, enslaving almost everyone who possessed any measure of youth. Among whom was also my son, alas! who had been brought up as a child through the divine bath by the mother, the own son I made, the noble Basil; and also the bridegroom of my daughter, because he was young and handsome, as it seemed, and had enjoyed the marriage for a very short time. And the king, with all his kinsmen and almost all those in office, having been put on the triremes, to...

^A the city of Constantine they led them; and from there again they took them to Adrianou and settled them there.

And now I am here, dreading a rock truly overriding the summit. And yet, many times during the siege, I neglected myself so as to die; but it was not yet granted to me to attain this, the Providence, I think, keeping me for the worse, so that, having been punished for a long time, I might then die. And as for other things, I am able to bear them—I mean poverty and the ignoble living in a foreign land—but the loss of the child burns my vitals. For beside other things, learning that he is tormented by him who rules all and is lashed every day, I lose my senses. The cause is that my son, possessed of a noble spirit and being by nature ardent for virtue, does not betray his ancestral glory. And so the ruler attempted to persuade him with words and gifts at the start, and as he was unyielding to these, he turned to tortures. But since he achieved nothing after doing everything, he admired the virtue of the boy and his persistent wisdom; he did not, however, make him free as he ought; but, despairing of a change, he decided to sell him; he deemed him worthy of such great humanity. He sells him nevertheless for a very great price, and such a price that we would never be able to suffice to ransom him.

Our matters, therefore, stand in these circumstances and in much worse ones yet; but wishing to ask you to stretch out a hand, I think I do not need many words. For he who has ransomed the captivity of many of the wretched Romans, would surely not overlook one citizen who is in need. ^B Although in the past time I was guarded about asking anything from your lordship; but now I would not be ashamed of the matter. I ask, therefore, of your lordship, most reverend master, remembering our constant, great devotion toward you and the many great hopes that we had and lived with happily until the time of the capture, as He who sees all knows, and even the eye of the one peering at us, and moreover of the favor from you toward us, which, if any of ours should take away, I do not know if anything would remain, and of that pure and sincere friendship, which neither time, nor changes of affairs, nor such a distance has been able to dim at all, to aid what is proper for the present fortune, and first of all to ransom for us Basileios, who, once having attained this, will straightway come to you, being destined to be a servant; then also to provide for us some provision for the future, from which we shall live in the present fortune. But if these two things, being great, are not easy to be done for the present, if you redeem the child, you will do the greatest good, and a greater than this would not be possible for us, and we ourselves will bear the other fortune not heavily, seeing the wretched Romans who do everything so that they may have enough of daily food.

But may God, who governs all, grant you a long life, and keep you for us healthy and cheerful; for having you, we will not bear captivity and poverty and every fortune heavily. But for God's sake, do not disdain to write to us always, as to us even your letters alone bring the greatest comfort. And here it is easy for us to send letters; for many from Venice, and others from Florence, arrive at the city of Constantine; and from thence to Adrianou it is a three days' journey; so that it is possible to send letters and other things securely. For I myself, having learned something from you, will come most swiftly to the city of Constantine.

The present man, who brings the letters, is our citizen, a kinsman and relative of Paraskeuas, the servant of my mother; he also has lost his child and wife; if you deem him worthy of your aid, you will seem to grant a favor to my mother, and to her who has died; for he himself also ran to you because of her. Farewell.

GREGORY'S LETTER TO CARDINAL BESSARION

I offer this boldly to the height of your divine supremacy.

If to grant forgiveness to faults ^C is of God, he who allows one who has sinned so much and in such ways as I have to ask for forgiveness, will surely forgive the one who pardons, as he is close to God. Truly, I have dared terrible things and even beyond terrible things, having insulted your divine supremacy in such an absurd way; but greater will be the glory for you, viewing with indifference my stupidity and terrible madness. This schooling of yours is severe and ^D truly terrifying, which completely worked me over and wasted me away; yet it is much less than the measure of my wickedness and insult. For your philanthropy shines forth even in this schooling, which, in my wretchedness, I brought upon myself, having blasphemed so unseemly against my—alas!—benefactor, and provider, and leader, the great—

^A wonder of the universe!—from whom I often—alas!—have been deemed worthy of gifts and favors, while in the terrifying furnace of exile and poverty. Having been seen by some other wretch as a parricide, and blinded in my mind by terrible despondency—or rather, having been captured by a terrifying madness—I have often acted with more agitation against myself and God ^B than those who have truly and wretchedly fallen.

It is, therefore, daring to ask for forgiveness for having dared such things, and to do so through one’s own efforts; but even when men offend God, He welcomes with philanthropy those who have genuinely condemned themselves—He who even endured to become human for the sake of the thoughtless and the impious, and to suffer such things and so many to depart, establishing Himself for us as a pattern of all virtue and philosophy. Since you, therefore, are yourself an image of Christ and a steward of terrifying and most divine mysteries, and a most holy hierarch, may you imitate the common Master and Benefactor, who welcomes with philanthropy those who sin against Him and His holy laws and truly repent, and deigns to grant them the greatest gifts. Grant, therefore, that I may sing a palinode, to praise your God-like almsgiving twice over in my life. Do not drive me away as I daringly approach you and with tears appease your philanthropy, which I have provoked—alas!—with much folly, or rather with sacrilege and terrible blasphemy. For you shall see me, the former Saul—or even better, myself, the example of Paul—becoming ^C suddenly [an instrument of] your benevolence and of the truly venerable advantages that God has bestowed upon you.

For that mournful and comic poem, it possessed no order of any kind, nor beauty, nor power, nor command of language and strength. The whole thing was a kind of irony, and some absurd and interminable babbling, combined most strangely and ridiculously; for which reason I have brought nothing to light, nor did I intend to complete it or share it with friends, although it was permitted to work it over and impart some good from it. But having cast it under the bed, I intended, in truth, to tear it to pieces, surely blaming myself for the daring and the absurd undertaking—and, indeed, blaming those who were the cause of such and so great an evil, among whom Georgios the Hermetian was the most at fault, who, even when I did not wish it, persuaded and provoked me a thousand times to scrape it out. As for your praise, I shall find the proper form and order of words, as best I can, so as to heal the wounds as aptly as possible.

Stop, therefore, Master, Master, this anger and punishment of yours; for even if I have rightly paid the penalty for what I have done, still, I have suffered terrible and unbearable things, wretch that I am—or rather, things beyond terrible, in Florence, in Methone, ^D in prison, in neck-irons, being terribly pressed and persecuted. And yet I pass over the shame, which for those who have sense is no less a loss. And now, alas! I endure things more unbearable than [those of] murderers and traitors, buried in this terrifying prison and this fearful tomb and Hades, struggling with hunger and stench and all manner of misery and hardship, and having my sides lacerated by infinite lice and bedbugs, and [getting] sleep only most rarely. I pass over in silence the madness of these commoners, who have drunk the greater part of my blood; for, as a favor to you, they all persecute me without restraint, each one finding some other idea of punishment, and I am paying this penalty, even while silent and bearing all things meekly, and neither before this terrible punishment nor during it have I remembered your affairs or recounted them. But if this seems unbelievable to you, you will perhaps be easily persuaded from this: for who was so senseless and wretched as to remember and disparage your affairs in the presence of those who held them in wonder and who remember the most blessed Pope, while the Venetian leaders were present, and these [men] were the very ones eager for your cause? But if I should have somewhere let slip some word, having grumbled in a corner, burdened by what I have endured, I beg for forgiveness, and I do so with tears as well.

If any man dare to attack me rashly, as though I had disparaged the Church of the Latins, he shall pay eternal penalties to God and to holy truth, being exposed as a wretched calumniator and far from God. For neither in conversations, nor in essays, did I ever at any time dare such a thing; certainly not, and may I not be so mad, nor may the enemies of our salvation have such power against us. On the contrary, I have praised, and even now I do not praise and celebrate any the less, and I hold it in honor. However, I am not able to be reconciled with those Greeks who rashly rebuke and unsparingly insult the ancestral Church, and I consider those who are the cause of such great scandal to be cursed and abominable. Regarding these things, whoever wishes to judge and hold me accountable, let him judge and hold me accountable. For I was not even living in Florence, having been expelled from your own household, for the purpose of disparaging your affairs. For how could I [have done so]...?

dared the same, I who, through you and by the power of your writings which you deigned to send to those there on my behalf, was esteemed and judged worthy of a certain care, [yet] now dare—as if someone forgetful of himself—sometimes to praise and sometimes to find fault with the very same person? But, since it was winter, it was not possible to leave; and at the same time, I had set out to hear the philosophical discourse which I had undertaken to listen to. But not even that I was grieved at not being judged worthy by you of great things—for perhaps I was not worthy, nor did I know how to serve you, being disposed [towards you] in a more simple manner—but because, having been deprived of the necessities of life, I have fallen from the household, having been driven out like some criminal. And from there, it followed that I also fell from that blissful leisure of studies for which I bore everything easily. This, however, in truth maddened me; this drove away the more sober of my thoughts, and nearly forced me ^B to lose my mind.

But why is it necessary to relate these things [and to dare] to become a nuisance to you in my boldness? I have sinned against heaven and before you. I have sinned beyond all those who have offended God. I blame myself for such great madness, for I appear to have offended not only my most divine master, but by now even God Himself, having dared to commit things [that are] unholy and unlawful, wretch that I am. But what am I to suffer, poor soul? I have been conquered, tyrannized by grief; I was led into extreme despondency, not bearing the insult and the deprivation of philosophy, from which I ought straightway to have been torn away by the evil spirit and to have fallen wretchedly. But, by your philanthropy and godlike virtue, spare me, the miserable and wretched. Grant forgiveness to one who is annoyed and terribly grieved for what I have acted insolently; grant forgiveness to one repenting for what I have sinned, having acted impiously and boldly against your ^C brilliant and divine excellence; grant forgiveness to one gripped by terrible madness and terribly darkened in mind; grant forgiveness to one the unworthy, who deserves [only] lack of forgiveness and every punishment. I approach you now, fearing and trembling, conscious of my own stupidity and terrible madness, naked, a beggar, downcast, wasted away with tears, invoking your philanthropy and mercy, and crying out for your compassion, and groveling before your sacred feet, and not daring to gaze upon your height. I approach you, as that publican [did] God, cast down, beating my breast with my hand and head in a lamentable manner and watering the floor with my tears. For even if I have sinned beyond the possibility of forgiveness, yet I am emboldened by the abundance of your philanthropy and [trusting] that my wickedness will not overcome the abundance of your godlike and angelic virtue. Forgive, O master, godlike and gentle one, the foolishness of your servants, by making this disappear through the abundance of your philanthropy, imitating the common Master, who, granting forgiveness of transgressions to those who truly repent, deems them worthy of supernatural graces and gifts. But may it be for me, having been delivered from the terrible things that press upon me, to be deemed worthy again of your desired kindness and mercy, so that I may, throughout my life, hymn and proclaim your great long-suffering and grace, for you have spared one who has sinned in such a way, when you ought to have executed [judgment] and utterly destroyed [me], and you deemed me worthy of mercy; may it be my portion, O Savior, to be deemed worthy of your heavenly benefaction and grace. The least servant of your authority, Gregory, the wretch, from [(3)] darkness and prison, or rather from the belly of hell, ^D dares to report this.

A GENETHLIAC ORATION OF GREGORY UPON THE MOST HOLY PATRIARCH OF CONSTANTINOPLE AND CARDINAL OF NICAEA, BESSARION, THE MOST ELOQUENT AND WISE

Our most divine leader [(4)] has returned to us from his embassy; the common good has returned; the common benefactor has returned, the pride of nature, the shrine [(5)] of graces, the swarm of virtues, the great wonder of the inhabited world, not crowned with a fillet of gold or wild olive or parsley or white reed, with which the judges of the games are accustomed to crown those who have been victorious in the Olympic contests [(6)], but with the sweats and the successes [(7)] which he heroically endured on behalf of those who are pious, or rather, glory and praises flow throughout the inhabited world and bring about a "heaven-high glory" [(8)]. For not only the lucky ones and the common crowd [(9)] serve as his bodyguard and receive him brilliantly, but even the leaders of the cities, for whom such things are a matter of great concern; and eagerly throwing open the gates, they gladly receive the common benefactor.

glorifying him with hymns and laudations, and honoring him with god-like honors. ^A For to others, it seems sufficient if their own affairs are well and excellently managed, while they do not much concern themselves with the common well-being and improvement, thinking in small and lowly terms. But for our common benefactor and guardian, he does not much care for individual and private matters, but is preeminently concerned with the common and universal good, for the sake of which the particular also comes into being and is preserved, and partakes of both being and well-being, to the extent that it befits him as such a person to do. Now, he undertakes yet another embassy ^B to lands beyond our borders, in an untimely season, and that too in a body worn out by varied infirmities, not that he might thereby improve his own personal situation. For what would he lack, being so perfectly self-sufficient, and looking down upon human affairs, and having already transcended the material dimension and the allurements of matter, glory, and pleasures, by which almost everyone else is spellbound and held fast, considering the enjoyment and blessedness of these to be the only happiness? Rather, he does so to provide, through his own labors and exertions, an ease of life and abundance of human goods for others.

Therefore, it was right for all to offer him common praise and to acknowledge his favors eagerly, and to compose odes and hymns as befitting him, and to offer sacrifices to God specifically for the sake of his life, and his ultimate glory, and divine preeminence, which the envy ^C of some has often obstructed, so that such a benefactor and guardian, the greatest sun of the inhabited world, might remain with us for as long as possible, since it is otherwise impossible to repay him freely for the favors that he has always provided to all and continues to provide daily. And let no one imagine that, in exalting him thus for his common benefactions and belittling the particular and individual ones, I am seized by arrogance and insensibility; for no one would be able to count the sand of the sea, nor the stars of the heaven, nor his particular acts of kindness toward each individual. Indeed, almost all Italians confirm the account, praising ^D how many and what kind of graces and gifts he has provided both in common and to each person individually, who have often stood in need of his assistance and benefit—some of whom, from being among the destitute, he has made brilliant; and others, who were held fast in extreme ignorance, he has shown to be learned and wise by teaching them; and there are even some whom he has rescued from extreme dangers and dire poverty when they were in danger of perishing, and indeed even of having their own property unjustly stripped away. Furthermore, the Greeks also praise him everywhere, recounting how many and what kind of favors he has often provided them, having taken pity on them in their terrible calamity and unbearable misfortune (unless one were of a wicked and ungrateful disposition, having been allotted a difficult and fault-finding nature), performing such and so many good deeds daily and humanely pouring forth his own resources. For how could anyone, by passing over in silence his benefits toward the leaders of the Greeks, who have fallen piteously from their ancestral happiness, not appear absurd, when he has appeared as their father, guardian, and benefactor?

And yet, if people admire God most for his benevolence (for it is not least for this that all hymn and especially admire him, calling him the "giver of good things"), and this man has surpassed all in this regard in his own time, how is he not clearly shown to be most divine through his imitation of divine benevolence, which is the only work that both man and God hold in common, and through which one is able to be united to Him, having been conformed to God and united blessedness, as far as it is possible for a man to be united to God, who is supremely good and most high? And if love is the greatest of goods, which both the divine oracles and the most divine law of Jesus assert, then benevolence is surely the fruit of this, which is the work that men and God most especially share, to whom belongs love or Eros—or rather, it is self-love and Eros, as he himself clearly asserts. Indeed, how could he who has perfected that ineffable philanthropy by which our affairs are held together not also have partaken of that divine love, having attained it through the performance of his benevolence, and through that having been united to God?

^A such, indeed, is considered the limit of human happiness.

You yourself, therefore, most divine master, are happy and blessed, having been worthily deemed worthy of such great happiness and having partaken of that end of love which is desirable to all, which—as you know—those skilled in such matters maintain is the crown, the head, and the end of all virtues. But I have inadvertently and slightly altered the order of the virtues, which one ought to maintain everywhere—those who have any portion of knowledge and have laid hold of liberal speech in the proper way. Yet, there will be no great harm in this, nor is it in any way a confusion of the subject set before the discourse. For the discourse will very quickly cling to what is appropriate and to its own matters, God willing, proceeding as best it can in order, and finishing the eulogy as briefly as possible, leaving the length of it to the appropriate times. Therefore, I must proceed forward and attach what follows to what has already been said.

Do we think, then, that while our most divine master possesses love and benevolence, he is in any way in need of prudence, or justice, or courage, or the other virtues? Or has he perhaps participated in them, but only dimly and superficially, having fallen short of the habit of them? How could that be? He who has attained such prudence, having been adorned by a divine portion, and has exercised it through experience and through every kind of culture, aye, and indeed through political science and theory, so that all who enter into discourse with him are struck with amazement at him, and wonder at him as at a wondrous man, following in his footsteps, and almost believing the words gushing forth from him to be oracles, clearly manifesting the present most wisely, and shrewdly conjecturing the future, showing what must be done and ordering it as best as possible; and now briefly and laconically, now in the Attic style with fluent grace, as the subject matter requires, proclaimed brilliantly and skillfully, and carrying with it much Aphrodite—anyone who has been deemed worthy to enjoy these things and has partaken of the graces springing forth from him would surely have considered Themistocles and Pericles, Cimon and Miltiades, to be trifles—those who are so much admired by the Greeks to this day for their prudence, their fluency, and their political science. ^{B C}

Although, to the noble Themistocles, nothing appears to have been an achievement worthy of admiration, except that oracle which he understood by paying close attention, and which they say he used for embassies to the Persians and Lacedaemonians ^D and for the breaking up of the fleet, and other such things that were scattered about; but as for a subject worthy of his consideration—one revealing his musical grace, his greatness of mind, his sharpness, and that true concern for words and wisdom—not even a rumor of such has been left behind.

I say this not to disparage the demagogues of the Greeks, who have been deemed worthy of storied fame and unstained glory, and who have amassed such renown for virtue and political science, having been displayed as common benefactors of the Greeks—may I not be so poor in judgment and prudence!—but because there is a very great difference between this man and them, if I am permitted to make any judgment about such men; if one must indeed invoke such a man, and not rather [think of him as] some supernatural nature, one superior to the benefit of human nature, who has not least of all absorbed into the pious the human ills and the life that is in generation and decay. For while for Themistocles, whom the speech just mentioned, only these [political] things were accomplished, for our most divine leader not only have embassies been brilliantly performed many times, but also writings worthy of speech, or rather of wonder and astonishment, have been left behind for both Greeks and Italians—for in his abundance of natural talent and the excellence of his judgment, he has compressed into a short space their dialect, manifesting the man’s vast learning, his sharpness, and his nobility and strength concerning words and philosophy; in which those who have been blessed with knowledge and understanding are able to perceive what he is.

For he is simply, like the heroic steed who neighs across the plain, and he utters a clear and most pleasant sound, like the Olympic trumpet; and he flows like one inspired, like the currents of a river, like some golden-flowing Nile, or one with silver eddies, or the Pactolus, with ineffable graces and Attic splendor, and in a way that is ineffably delightful. And the density and variety of his thoughts, and their polish and sweetness—which his writings most of all require—bloom and overflow most opportunely with the ideas of his subjects, like flower-buds. And who, being a master of liberal speech and one who has laid hold of knowledge in the proper way, would not be filled with wonder at such a man, and would not consider him a happy and blessed man, adorned with such great happiness? And when it has been necessary to meet [a challenge], either to demonstrate the matter at hand or to stand against opposing arguments by entering the fray, in the various applications of proofs he shows all things…

^A exactly, both to those currently alive and to some of those of the past, as some contend when they are able to discourse healthily about such things, with precision and order and the multitude of demonstrations.

This must be left aside for the present, lest I appear to some to have undertaken such things for the sake of treatment. But I fear that, in detailing such things and weaving them together so simply, I might insult the man through the weakness of my words; so that it seems to me better to have postponed such matters for the present, as they truly require more leisure—which, if God grants, once I have attained leisure and have recovered myself a little and have been relieved of the terrible disease that has taken hold of me and pinches me quite severely—a thing which, while being ^B tormented for the most part in the dread prison of Hades, I, poor wretch, endured due to the excess of grief and sorrow, having almost fallen into distraction and having altogether lost my senses.

Let these things, then, for the present, be said spontaneously, as if by one who is sick and nearly half-dead; but I must proceed to the rest of the eulogy.

How, then, our most divine master possesses prudence, wisdom, and philanthropy has already been stated by me in brief, as time presses. But matters stand thus regarding these things; yet, regarding justice, does he give way to any man for preeminence, which all define as the beauty of leaders, the harmony of the state, the giver ^C of peace, and the harbinger of a good life and prosperity? But indeed, who is more righteous than he in this, or who clings more firmly to it, sacrificing every day to God without stint and gladly, and offering himself 63 as a sacrifice through praise and every virtue, with a contrite heart, firm faith, and intent contemplation of the Truly Existent 64, which is indeed the most beautiful victim and most pleasing to God? But nonetheless, if he possesses justice most powerfully, which it befits a servant to render to God, to the state, and to friends, he who through every virtue makes himself, as far as it is possible for a man, domestic to God, and out of his own things everyday offers without stint a sacrifice that is holy and non-smoky—which the intent contemplation of God constitutes, and the apprehension of His words and works, and the providence ^D safely conceived and, as far as possible, worthily admired—and in regard to the common utility and salvation, he bravely undertakes as much and such things as he himself has devised and performs each day—

^A one must advise prudently and keenly, having discovered and elegantly set forth, and more keenly than any Themistocles 65, and now, by removing, he maintains long-distance embassies for Italy, being so far away 66. Privately, he does well to each, and also defends and benefits freely from what is at hand, desiring to insult no one among those who are outsiders; he, indeed 67, who chooses and sees these and such things, how has he not achieved every form of justice, having been shown pious and blessed and joined to God [katakras], which I myself would call the only happiness and true felicity of human souls, toward which all human things ought to be directed, and without which all are stale and a light shadow and more deceptive than dreams?

You yourself, then, are blessed in very truth, most divine master, having luckily achieved every form of justice and having practiced it blissfully through the favor of the Higher One and by more divine zeal and magnanimous prudence, from whom and through whom, as from some root of virtue, every form sprouts, and is acquired profitably, and, being set in place, advances, over which God, being most glorified, rejoices greatly, and all men hymn him as they go along.

Well then. Does our most divine master, therefore, have prudence and justice in this way, yet yield the preeminence in courage to someone, without which all things are almost dim and faded, bereft of intelligible strength and stability? But who has appeared more courageous than he even in this? Supporting courageously and manfully with constant gratitude such and so great an assault of severe diseases—capable of wearing down even adamant—firmly standing, truly very philosophically and courageously disposing himself and worthily of the philosophy and nobility present in him, always speaking with harsh pains every day and taking into account no danger, and bravely undergoing every toil and hardship for the common good and improvement, and for that which will be useful and advantageous to all Christians; and patiently bearing and enduring with philosophical meekness, which befits such a man, the discord, jealousy, and blasphemies of some, which are poured upon him very shamelessly and rubbed against him very indecently, considering these to be bites of lice, philosophically, and the drivel and tales of an ill-tempered mind, and the yelps of a small Melitean dog barking—a training of philosophy, such as they say Socrates, Pericles 68, and Euclid 69 [also had], and

many other such heroes, having been adorned with divine grace and fairness, with magnificence and gentleness, and with an unshakeable constancy and patience in the face of insults and blasphemies. ^A All those who praise him confirm what I have said, and not least among them the one whose memory the discourse has just mentioned, who, in hymning the man’s fairness and long-suffering—and as is expected, delighting in his praises, and explaining them to all, and explicitly proclaiming him to be a lover and admirer of virtue, extending his celebrity and praises, and setting him forth as a model of a happy and temperate life, and ranking him among those ancient and blessed men—mentions, praising them for their supreme patience, [Basil] ibid.; from there Gregory profited.

But perhaps it was his diligent care to achieve the other excellences and virtues, while he neglected moderation and that decency which is most becoming to human beings ^B—which he indeed grasped, though he partook of it only dimly, just as we see many do among those now living who have high opinions of themselves regarding virtue, whom he easily restrains, being gripped by a terrible arrogance and an inability to see, for the sake of knowing themselves. But in this regard also, was it not more his diligent concern to acquire decency, generosity, and moderation, as he despised all incontinence, and the alluring charms and pleasures of material things, and its unspeakable sorcery and its snares, by which the majority are terrified and to which they cling, gaping, considering only the enjoyment of these things to be happiness, and all other ^D matters but a light shadow? For who else was so concerned with moderation, despising all vanity and empty glory, for which some are carried away far from what is good, and think, say, and do many things beyond what is proper, walking behind a shadow or pursuing it dangerously, at one time thinking it is one thing and another time another, and easily deceiving those who are intent upon it? Regarding generosity, what I have mentioned in the words above, at the beginning of the discourse and when embarking upon the encomiums, will surely suffice.

As for virtue, then, the most divine master is truly thus. And yet I have passed over countless excellences of the man, having truly wronged him and passed over the great things in silence, as the discourse is already hastening and my strength, with the lingering of my infirmity, has failed me. Even so, and being in such a state, I shall add to what has been said a great deal that will bring glory to the man. What, then, is this? Seeing, therefore, that wisdom and the art of letters have almost failed the Hellenic race and it is all but in danger of being utterly extinguished ^A by the hidden and terrible calamity which has overturned and destroyed everything, having completely vanished and reduced it to non-existence, what does he plan and what does he do? He has conceived a wise plan, worthy of his own divinity and greatness of mind—I would add also his affection for the Hellenic and royal race, which God and nature and noble choice have shown forth as being clearly more divine than all other races, possessing alone, simply and above all other races, the excellences and that unspeakable goodness, just as one of the wise men of old also said, while explaining it thus: “If the barbarian excels in the fruits of the land, he has the advantage in food, but he is deficient in those being nourished; for Hellas alone truly gives birth to man, a heavenly plant and divine growth, producing a refined ^B reason and one made familiar with knowledge. And the cause is that the mind is naturally sharpened by the thinness of the air; wherefore also Heraclitus says, not without aim: ‘A dry, thin soul is wisest and best’”—even if some now dare to diminish this wantonly, with the lingering of envy and malice.

He has therefore devised a wonderful plan, worthy of many praises: to form a library, collected from all sorts of Hellenic books. This he has accomplished with good fortune, having equipped it in the most illustrious city of Italy, by which they are even more awestruck, ^D it being a borderland of Italy and Asia, having endured countless toils and an expense of money that cannot even be told. And now it is possible for those who choose and are able to encounter them, to enjoy the benefit from thence, and to live in ease and luxury, to pass their life in a relaxed manner, enjoying that unadulterated feast; being an unassailable treasure, sacred heirlooms, a rational paradise blooming with flowers of all manner of wisdom, a luxury of graces, a copious spring, a beloved light, and one that adorns the city that possesses such a treasure, and before it, the author of so great and such a good. On account of which I shall never cease to hold the man in the greatest wonder, and to explicitly profess gratitude to him for having been the provider of so great and such a good; of which may there one day be worthy guides, having caught the desire for wisdom, of which never before did it come, nor will it ever come from God to men ^D as a more divine possession. Now indeed, half of this great good has been accomplished, so that the wonderful and most divine possession of Hellenic wisdom might not utterly perish. This, then, has been accomplished by him; and that other thing it is not easy to pass over in silence. For I shall clearly wrong the man if I do not set forth such a thing, and to things...

^A of this kind—as long as no thoughtless sophist is present—I am quite well predisposed.

For Cappadocia now produces not only monsters, but no less so the island of Crete, from which, indeed, a certain man recently arose—if one must call such a person a man, and not rather some Strepsiades or Thersites, a forgetful and sluggish fellow, and one who foolishly prides himself on wisdom and belches it forth. To whom, indeed, other things have occurred in a ridiculous and brazen manner, and surely that most ridiculous and most brazen inquiry directed against Plato, in which this worthy person, at the beginning of his book, promises a kind of comparison between Aristotle and Plato; so much pride and brazenness is in him. Having progressed but a little in his discourse, he has forgotten his proposed goal entirely, and most impudently fastens upon the renowned Plato, as if he, for a long time suffering the pangs of labor, were birthing blasphemies against the man, pelting him unsparingly with insults and washing him in the reproaches ^B from the Cotys, having lifted every goad of a licentious tongue, and shamelessly urging everyone to flee the man as if he were some beast. Yet, toward the adamantine words of that great man and his terrible constraints and powerful proofs, he has not yet dared to go directly, although he is most brazen and babbles without concern, and [is] truly a rattling noisy instrument, and filled with mucus and rheum; nor will he, as I think, ever dare to utter a sound, trapped as he is by dread ignorance, dim-sightedness, and folly.

He boasts, however, very ridiculously and with a toothy grin, like that Thersites, and he is puffed up with pride, and struts about like a peacock, casting sideways glances at himself over those insults and reproaches, which it would have been more fitting for him to hear, having been brought against him as he cowered miserable—[reproaches] which are very much suited to one such as he, rather than to Plato, that noble and renowned philosopher, who has been to us a benefactor of so many and such great goods, having appeared as a true common benefactor, a guide of things beautiful and honorable, and a leader and teacher of philosophy and the art of liberal discourse; whom, because of his greatness, his fine natural intelligence, and his unspeakable fluency of speech, who would be able to hymn worthily? For, in truth, this man has attained and encompassed the advantages of all philosophers and rhetoricians, having been deemed worthy of a divine allotment.

Since this is so, this hollow-minded little man dared—this Becceselenos ^C, by restraining such a man and staining him with licentious lampoons. What then of our most divine leader? He did not endure such malice and madness of this dreg of humanity, this superannuated-fool unfit [for discourse], this weak-willed little man. And having encountered that most perverse inquiry and the confusion of that rabble, he deemed it a superfluous work to refute and overthrow absolutely everything with sobriety, yet, having cast himself upon the most critical points, he dreadfully refutes and casts down this hollow sophist, striking him unsparingly with syllogisms and with the terrible constraints and powerful proofs of his arguments, defending Plato worthily and defending the sacred truth with nobility.

In these [proceedings], what his order and contemplation are, and [what his] refined and terrible proofs [are], by which his writings flourish and are adorned—it is not for me, strictly speaking, to praise, but [it is for those] who are themselves endowed by divine lot as he is. As for me, and those like me, it is fitting only to be astonished and to marvel at such things, and to deem those blessed who participate in such blessedness.

So much, however, the discourse will say, having dared [to speak] at the present time, that he has intermingled more of his secret truths with those things already stated, unfolding and clarifying things here which previously seemed to the most learned men to be obscure and difficult to parse, or rather ^D incomprehensible and secret, as if he were becoming inspired in the struggles and the envelopments of those arguments, and [in] the powerful proofs, which are keenly reported and which wonderfully overthrow the opposing arguments.

Wherefore, as for me, although I was not entirely ignorant of the man before, now it occurs to me to be even more astonished and to wonder, on account of the fact that he was the source of so many and such great goods for the Greeks, and had shared his own goods so liberally. And whatever things he had grasped with great labor and focused contemplation, he thought it necessary to share with his friends and the Greeks through his overflowing humanity, caring for their profit and progress. But the Italians, having translated these into their own dialect, are astonished and marvel, and they rank him among the ancients—I mean Aristotle and Plato—and among the ancient and blessed men who were of their company; hence, indeed, also some...

^A have fashioned his verses and easily written others in imitation, a thing truly novel and new; for in an instant he produced a complete book with certain types and seals; so much were all inflamed by this book.

As for me, I acknowledge and shall throughout my life acknowledge the kindness of that comic comedian and vain sophist who has been the agent of such great good for us, by opening the treasury and showing the light. But may it be my lot some day to strip for action against the man, and not to hurl insults at him, as they do, but to cast at him arguments that strike most keenly and advance fearlessly to close quarters (for we shall not deem him some Gorgon, but rather a bugbear capable of frightening only children), even if he has already paid the penalty for his rashness and terrible madness.

This, then, let me for the present offer as a debt of honor to my leader and benefactor, as a sort of thank-offering and ^B recompense for my deliverance from evils—not such as is fitting for him, but such as is natural for one who greets him upon his return. For I trust that with God you will return healthy and fortunate, and that immediately. For this reason, I greet you even as if you were present, and I almost worship those sacred hands with joy, and kiss your feet with reverence.

But hereafter, God willing, I shall attempt to compose a more perfect eulogy for you, when I have recovered somewhat and have found relief from this weakness and terrible dimness of sight and forgetfulness that is crushing me, which has fallen upon me in the dark and fearful ^C pits of Hades ^D where I am buried, praising each of the excellences that truly belong to you—those great and divine ones—one by one, and exalting them with praises as far as possible, even if I should never be able to reach your true worth, being clearly so far behind in having the ability to eulogize such things worthily and to discover and compose the words appropriate to such men. Yet, may the thing that is pleasing to God be in our power. But may it be permitted me to find you mild and merciful in these matters, so that you may erase and utterly extinguish every trace of anger from your soul, so that in this, too, there might appear in you more brilliantly that surpassing superiority of impassibility and your godlike character and your magnificence and philanthropy, which are praised by all, in which God especially delights, and by which all men, being charmed, are overmastered. May you have pardon ^A for me, if I have fallen short of what is due or have spoken too simply of your most divine excellence, which Plato alone or Demosthenes or Xenophon would have been worthy to hymn, or if any other existed after their manner; and especially concerning those acts of kindness—bounties of your mercy and philanthropy—which you have freely conferred upon me in my surviving days, for which I know and shall throughout my life acknowledge as many thanks as I am able. For in this way alone can I repay you for the things of which I have been judged worthy by you. And may you reconcile this brilliant authority to me ^B, having successfully introduced me to it, as you know well—it which is utterly hostile to me and is extremely angry, for it seems that in treating me with kindness you have incurred its wrath. I shall owe you immortal thanks. If it is easy for you, please ensure that everything is restored to me that has been frantically plundered by those ancient, public, and most cruel beasts, who have drunk the greater part of my blood and have acted more savagely than any wild animals, having nearly stripped me even of my hide. For now, alas! I find myself destitute of everything, and I am barely able to obtain necessary food—for I pass over the other things for the time being—and by doing this you will already have done me an act of kindness, and I would suspect that I have, in this way, thrice over received complete forgiveness for that terrible drunkardness.

But may God grant you long life and the longest ^C span of years in health and ease, or rather, whatever you may contemplate in your ^D mind (for you have an abundance of all other things with God, and in addition to these, ease), and may He bring about a most speedy return with accomplishment and most glorious success in those things for which you went there, having endured such great hardship and toil. For everyone considers your departure and absence a catastrophe in truth, and after them not least the one who writes this, being deprived of such a great father and master and semi-divine man, unless there be someone envious and malevolent, or one who envies, or is resentful, or is darkened by your presence. But may God grant me, having been deemed worthy of your favor and grace again, to enjoy them for a long time and more perfectly, in whatever way and place and time He deems best. May it be my lot, O Savior, to enjoy more clearly your favor and grace, and the heavenly and divine kindness of the most divine master.